Just Over Your Shoulder
by La Vik
Summary: Carmen had the world at her fingertips. Mort was running out of options, but Fate decided to even the playing field. Finally, Mort Rainey's life is starting to look up...but at what price? And what does Shooter really want from them that they can't give?
1. Great First Impressions?

I don't own anything except Carmen...hmm...I'd rather own everything else. I wonder if anyone's willing to trade...

* * *

Carmen lived on her own, thank you very much. Ever since her parents died, which was quite a while ago, she had never felt the need to hang around anyone for long. She had been orphaned at the tender age of seven, and had spent the rest of her childhood living in an orphanage- -no, sorry, a group home. They didn't _call _them orphanages anymore. She'd gotten her hand slapped for telling kids at the home that they were in an orphanage because their parents didn't want them anymore. Well, wherever she had stayed, she was now twenty-seven years old and had let hardly any living soul get close to her.

Not that she had grown cold and heartless. If you came across her on the street, she seemed rather pleasant. Living in the concrete jungle known as New York City, she was often approached and barely short of harangued by men. She took care of herself, that was for sure. Instead of gallivanting around bars, desperately hunting for a man, like many of her acquaintances, she spent a lot of time at the gym. Whatever time she rested from working out was usually spent at the bookstore, or next door at the local coffee shop, reading through a new purchase.

Of course, she had grown up since the days where she considered herself an orphan, and had adjusted accordingly, which meant she had a good enough job to live off of. She had tried a lot of things, trying to suit her taste. She liked writing while she was in school, but now just as nothing more than a very enjoyable hobby that, every so often, she took seriously. For about seven years now, she had been the editor of a successful magazine, but had quit her job. She had saved quite a large sum of money, and now wanted nothing more than lay low and relax, perhaps for the first time.

That's why it thrilled her so much that her real estate agent had just found her a remote home in the seemingly middle-of-nowhere town of Tashmore Lake, up in the hills, where she could about her occasional hermit-like ways as much as she pleased. The money Carmen had saved would more than cover her expenses for a good three years at least while still leaving her with a large sum to spare.

The house was quite close to what she had pictured. Large, roomy, a lot of windows, and a wonderful view.

Her first day there was spent moving things in, all by herself, then driving the moving van back into town. She had her car dropped off there, and drove it back up. Needless to say, by the time everything was finished, she was exhausted, and dropped down for the count on her rug in front of the fireplace for the night.

The next morning...or rather, afternoon, seeing as she had slept in until three, she shook off the drowsiness that still clouded her head and showered, something she hadn't had the energy to do the day before. She changed into a black pair of sweatpants and a forest-green hooded sweatshirt. She looked at herself in the mirror and laughed.

"You're in the forest, stupid," she chuckled to herself, "What are you trying to do, camouflage? This ain't the army." Her green eyes and brown hair certainly didn't make her any more likely not to blend in.

She went outside for a walk, and found herself taking random turns, just to see where they led. Of course, when one sets out exploring a new place without any agenda in mind, they tend to lose their way a bit. She ignored the fact until she found herself walking in large figure eights for nearly two hours.

"Shit, shit, double shit," she muttered, crouching over her knees and panting. "I can NOT fucking get lost out here! I'm too young, my abs are too nice, and I deserve a break _way_ too much to die out here."

It was then that she noticed, through the trees, another house. Without hesitation, she ran over and knocked on the door.

A man with brown eyes, brown-blonde hair, and a neatly trimmed mustache answered the door.

Carmen didn't know a thing of it, but this man was Morton Rainey, a pariah from the town. He'd had his incidents...something dealing with a split personality...but he hadn't had one of those _episodes _in a long while. Now, he was just Mort Rainey...just Mort, just _one _Mort, with no extra voices along for the ride.

"Um, can I help you?" he asked unsurely. No one came knocking up here anymore since the sheriff had given up on trying to pin him for murder. "I'm...Mort Rainey."

"I'm Carmen," she said. "I just moved into the house, maybe ten minutes from here. I kinda got lost taking a walk, and I was wonder if you've, erm...ever seen my house before."

"Yep," Mort said casually. "I've seen it. Carmen, was it? Is there a surname- -"

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't ask me that," she said hastily, her eyes glinting in panic for a moment. "I don't really know myself, you see. It's a long story."

"Ah," Mort nodded. "Noted. Well, I can take you back to your own house,"

"Really?" Carmen asked. "That'd be great."

Within minutes, she was in his car, and he was driving her back to her own house. It was no manner of good luck when it started to rain, and the unpaved roads were quickly turning too muddy to drive. Mort pulled over.

"We ought to wait for the rain to stop," he said matter-of-factly.

"Ah, no problem," she said. "I live alone, so it's not as if anyone's waiting for me."

Mort just nodded in comprehension. They sat in silence for a while, their heads lolling off towards their respective windows.

Carmen's biting sarcasm wound its way into her thoughts..._Wow, a dazzling conversationalist this one is. Got me on the edge of my seat._

_She's kind of a looker..._Mort thought. _I haven't thought a girl was so good looking since Amy. I wonder what she's like...NO! Off limits, remember? Wouldn't want more incidents...incidents are bad, especially incidents where crazy stalkers show up at your door... Besides, she's not my type. I fall for girls like Amy. Easy girls who'd cheat on you with any fuck-for-a-buck...Hold on buddy. Remember, hostile equals bad...This Carmen chick seems respectable. Wonder what it'd be like..._

"It sucks," Carmen said aloud. Mort flinched. Did she just read his mind or something?

"Excuse me?" he said uncomfortably.

"The weather," she said carelessly. "Sucks, doesn't it?"

"Oh," Mort sighed in something like relief. "Oh, yeah. It sucks...sucks and blows." He didn't realize he was flirting with her until she laughed at his joke.

"It seems the sucking won't be stopping soon," Carmen said as the pouring rain pounded down on her window.

"Ah," was all that Mort managed to get out this time. "So, how come you live alone?" _Damn curiosity..._He thought immediately, _Scaring away the only fucking decent looking girl in, what, several millennia?_

"I'm practically celibate," Carmen laughed, "No offense, but from my experience men are pigs in every sense of the word."

"Ah, trust me," he chuckled darkly, "The women in my life haven't been much apart from barn animals either."

"Humph," she huffed good-naturedly, "It seems whoever you are, the opposite sex will always screw you over. I suppose being gay may have its perks, then,"

"So, where'd you move from?" he asked, unconsciously changing the subject. "You don't seem like you're from anywhere near here."

"New York," she said simply. She had realized she was flirting shamelessly, and had now sworn she'd tone down the natural charm.

"Ah, city girl?" Mort asked. She nodded. "I assumed that much. I mean, it takes someone from the middle of civilization to get lost only ten minutes away from home just because of a few trees."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were making fun of me," she smirked. "And I'm the kind of girl who likes to be taken seriously."

"Didn't mean to offend," he smirked back. "Don't meet a lot of natural-born city mice around here." _City mice? Where am I getting this crap? Mice...people...big difference..._

"Well, keep looking, because I wasn't born in New York," she laughed vaguely. "Yet another crazy thing, I don't know where I was born,"

"What, did someone throw a rock at your head and drop you in the middle of nowhere?" he asked. "I mean, no last name, no birthplace, there's a reason behind that, right?"

"My parents died when I was seven, and I was put in a group home in New York," she said, as if she were only saying her name. The fact didn't seem to bother her at all. "The incident rattled my poor little brain, and I can't remember anything before then. The doctors said it's just a symptom of the trauma. They didn't tell me anything either. Said it'd be best for my poor little psyche if I remembered everything on my own."

"You're surprisingly open about this," he said, raising an eyebrow. "Are you just making this up? Because I'M the writer in this car. Making up stories is my job."

"Don't worry, I'm not stealing your career, then," she smirked, leaning back in her chair. "That's my true-to-life sob story. I've acquired quite a few sob stories, actually, so that one doesn't bother me much,"

"Ah," he said, lost for words yet again. _I bet she's just SO riveted by our conversation...I have no clue whatsoever how to deal with women. No clue..._

Carmen cleared her throat suddenly, and Mort swung his head around, having been disturbed in the middle of his train of thought. "The rain's stopping," she said simply.

"Oh," He said. "Should get going, then," He started his car back up, and they were off again. Within about seven minutes, he was parked in front of her house, a log cabin quite similar to his own on the outside. Carmen hopped out of the car, then, almost as an afterthought, walked around to Mort's window and rapped on it gently with her knuckles. He was already starting the car again, but stopped and opened it.

"It doesn't look like it's quite done raining," she said. "It should be getting dark soon. Wouldn't want you getting caught out there and having to camp out in your car all night, would we?"

Mort smirked and nodded. _Is she inviting me inside? She can NOT possibly be inviting me inside..._

"Driving at night up here can be a bitch. You want to stay?" Carmen asked, "Or at least until the sky clears up a little,"

"Uh..." Mort muttered. _Don't say 'uh,' you dummy. Yes or no! Yes or no! Heck, forget no! Say yes! _"Yeah," Mort said finally. "That'd be great." He stepped out of the car and followed as she unlocked the door and showed him in.

"Well, here it is," she laughed, "Just got here yesterday, so sorry if things are a little out of place still."

They really weren't. Carmen had been quick putting things away. She seemed quite settled in already..._More settled in than I am, I daresay. _Mort thought.

"You want to sleep in the bedroom?" she asked nonchalantly.

"What?" Mort snapped, "I couldn't throw you out of your bedroom. I mean, it's your house- -"

"Oh, be my guest," Carmen laughed. "Someone's gotta sleep in it. I've gotten into the habit of sleeping on the floor,"

"Well, if you're on the floor, I'll just take the couch," he replied..._Yeah, right. You've just forgotten how it feels to sleep on a bed._

"Suit yourself," Carmen shrugged. "Can I get you anything to eat?"

_Real food_? Mort thought. _Been a while since I've had any, seeing as I can't cook for shit. _"Sure," He replied. "Anything you got,"

"Aha, you have no idea what you're getting yourself into, buddy," she laughed from inside the kitchen. "I spent two semesters in culinary school before quitting, and I've been dying to get someone to try my cooking," She came back holding a tray out and putting it on the table. "I was heating this up for when I got home...luckily the oven shuts off automatically,"

It didn't look bad. Barbecued chicken, easy enough. Mort strode over to the table and took a bite. "Not bad," he said.

"I'll take that as a high compliment, seeing as I haven't tried to cook anything but TV dinners in quite a while," she said. "I lived off of Easy Mac, Sprite, and Pringles for longer than I can remember."

"Besides the occasional trip McDonald's?" Mort suggested.

"Ah, yes," Carmen nodded. "Or, as I referred to it, 'eating out.' I was at work too much to cook."

"Oh, you work?" he asked. "Where?"

"Nowhere anymore," Carmen said, taking a bit of her own cooking herself. "I quit my job. I'm on a VERY long vacation."

"Where'd you work?" he asked. "You don't seem like the secretary type,"

"That's because I'm not," she replied, not sure if she should be offended. _He obviously doesn't think very highly of women. Secretary my ass..._"I was editor-in-chief of _A-List _Magazine." she said, drawing herself up.

"Ah, the renowned _A-List_. That one, I've heard of," Mort said reminiscently. "The first magazine to reject some of my work, you know,"

"Well, that was before my reign, I swear," Carmen laughed, holding up her right hand.

"I'll take your word for it," Mort smirked. "So, if you were the editor, they had to at least credit you with a last name didn't they?"

"They did, but it wasn't a real name," Carmen said. "I went by Carmen Anderson,"

"Random last name?" he asked.

"Very random," Carmen laughed, "I got it by picking it out of a phone book."

Mort was about to reply when the phone started ringing. Carmen held up a finger apologetically and ran over to the couch, sat down on it, and picked up the receiver. "'Lo?" she said casually.

"Carmen, thank god!" said a frantic voice on the other end. It was Rob Wallace, whom she had appointed new editor-in-chief of _A-List_. "I've been calling your cell all day, but, as usual, you went and turned it off. I thought you would've intentionally given us the wrong house number too,"

"Nope, I gave you the right number, obviously," she said matter-of-factly. "And I gave you specific directions to only call if you found I left something behind,"

"Yeah, you left something behind," Rob said in annoyance, "Damn it, Carmen, you left your goddamn magazine behind. A month ago, we were the number one weekly magazine on this side of the country, and now, since you left, we've practically gone belly-up,"

"You're the big cheese now, remember? It's not my fault you can't tell what's crap and what's not," Carmen sighed. "I quit my job, so why are you still even calling me?"

"I'm just keeping you up to date so you're not lost when you come back- -"

"Point one, I'm not _coming _back." Carmen said calmly. "Point two, even if I did decide to start running the magazine again, if you guys keeping going about things the same way, then there won't be a magazine to come back to,"

"Carmen, you're the only good thing the magazine has going for it!" Rob pleaded desperately. "We just need your ideas."

"I told you idiots to be ready," Carmen muttered. "I told you, if you didn't do as I did, the magazine would go belly up before I even finish paying off my new place."

"Fine, you want me to grovel?" he snapped. "I'm fucking begging you, we need your brains behind this magazine, or it's about seven hundred more people without jobs."

"All right," Carmen huffed, "If you don't know how to bitch at your employees, I'll help you there on two conditions. One, I get paid, which you obviously predicted. Two, you do me a favor and get your best snoop to do some digging,"

"On what?"

"I want you to get into the records of every group home in New York and find me a last name," Carmen said stiffly. "_My _last name."

"Done," Rob said.

"Oh, one more thing," she said before hanging up. "I'm not gonna be driving up to New York every week. Anything you want done gets done over the computer, or on the phone, got it?"

"Concept gotten," Rob said.

"All right, then we agree. You got my email." she said, clicking down the receiver.

"Vacation cut short?" Mort asked. Carmen rolled her eyes.

"Not quite cut short," she sighed, plopping down onto the couch. "It's just been switched to a working vacation."

"You mind if I use your shower?" he asked.

"Go right ahead," Carmen said, "Towels are in the first cabinet you see when you go upstairs."

The next day, the weather had improved immensely. Mort had gone home, but had also left his phone number scribbled on a napkin. ("In case you end up lost again," he had told her.) She had spent the rest of the day eating Cheerios straight out of the box, watching cartoons in her pajamas and contemplating whether or not she wanted to have the napkin with the phone number framed and mounted. She fell asleep on the couch, waking up the next day with the Cheerios box stuck on her hand, its former contents spilled all over her lap.

_Call him, _Carmen was thinking. _Just fucking call the guy. I don't have anything to lose. He can't be worse than the other pigs I've dated. I've hit rock bottom. Nowhere but up now._

Finally, she just picked up the phone and dialed. _I will NOT hang up. I will not act like a stalker. I will chicken out. I am so going to..._

"Hello?"

"Um..." she began. _Words, honey. Use words. _"Hola," _English, dumbo! We ARE in America..._ "Remember me, from yesterday?" _Oh yes, very specific._

"Oh, hi," he said. Pause. "What's going on? Not lost again, are you? It's a little soon for that."

"Huh? Oh, no, I'm in my own house still. I know where I am and all." she laughed weakly. "I was just wondering if you were doing anything. I'm not used to being by myself in big buildings."

"Gonna try to feed me again?" he chuckled.

"Wasn't planning on it," she replied honestly. "I was thinking more along the lines of coffee,"

"Sounds good," he said. "Is right now okay?"

"Right now? Sure!" she said, maybe a little too enthusiastically. "I mean, yeah. Yeah, come on over."

"See you in a bit, then," he said. Click.

Carmen squealed loudly and stood up on the couch, letting out a victorious whoop before stopping herself and sitting down. _Deep breath, _she thought, _he's just a guy...a very cute guy...a very cute, very amicable, and completely made-for-you guy!_

She ran upstairs and changed out of her pajamas. She knew quite well that there was no need to change, seeing as they were just going to be lazing around the house, but she still changed out of her flannel pajama top into a plain grey tanktop.

_Showing off? Me? No way! It's a little warm in here anyway. I'm just getting comfortable. I'm not trying to look good or anything...Okay, I'm trying to look good. I'm trying to look VERY good. No sense denying- -_

The doorbell rang before Carmen got the chance to even contemplate hair and makeup, thank god. She ran down the stairs and open the door.

"_Hola_," he laughed. "Just woke up?"

"Yeah, and I'm bored already," she lied. She'd been awake for hours.

"Well, you look fine at any hour of the day then," he said with a wan smile. "Honestly, I thought I should be flattered that you got ready just because I was coming over."

"I brushed my hair, if it's any consolation," she laughed. "Come in."

* * *

Not sure how long this chapter seems to any of you, but I personally find it short. The rest are gonna be better, i swear! Just please, oh , please review. I'm not too proud to beg, here


	2. THIS is my tree!

disclaimer: whoo, i love these things... /sarcasm/ ...I own Carmen and Rob. That's all, mkay?

oh yeah, and to any of you...should i up the ratign a little for language, or is it fine as is?

* * *

The coffee runs and occasional lunches became a common happening for both Mort and Carmen. Though they almost always went the same way, they were far from monotonous. Every day turned into a chance to vent, to bounce ideas, and just to talk, something neither of them had really down for ages, yet something they both probably had desperately needed to do. Mort would rant about a new idea he had for a story, and Carmen would complain about how incompetent her former coworkers were, or how, ever since she had bought it for her apartment in the city, her stupid couch bed would never open, no matter how hard she pulled.

In the two weeks since Carmen had moved into the cabin, they had learned each other's condensed life stories, or at least one version of them. Mort knew about Carmen's string of unsuccessful relationships and countless business ventures, her time at the group home, and crazy college years. Carmen heard about Mort's career, his divorce, his ex-wife's...mysterious disappearance, and how the entire town had tried to pin it on him.

One day, Mort was quite bored at home, and wouldn't have anything to do for quite a while, seeing as his social calendar wasn't exactly booming. It was no secret that his frequent visits to Carmen's house were pretty much the only social call he made nowadays, and he quite looked forward to them. The feeling was quite mutual, really. Carmen liked entertaining him as a guest, and even more just enjoyed his company.

At this point, he hadn't been in contact with Carmen for about three days. Both of them had most likely gotten swallowed up in their work. Mort would have some new idea that he'd try to pursue, and Carmen would be on her computer, trying to teach her former coworkers how to tell decent work from total crap.

Seeing no other way to quell his boredom, Mort picked up the phone and dialed Carmen's number, expecting an invitation for lunch, coffee, anything. Instead, what he heard was her answering machine.

"Hey, it's Carmen!" Her recorded voice rang clearly on the other side, punctuated by crackles of static, "Had to get to New York for a while. Business call, can you believe it? And I thought I was taking a break! Anyhow, leave a message and, if you're lucky, I'll get back to you. If you're not lucky...well, Ciao!"

"Um, hello, Carmen," he said awkwardly. He didn't really like talking to recordings. "Just seeing if you were there. But you're not...uh...obviously, I guess. Bye."

_Articulate, aren't we?_

"I'm just not used to having to talk outside of conversation, that's all. It didn't sound like her, so it just wasn't _comfy_. She never sounds that perky," Mort muttered. "Answering machines put me on the spot to do all of the talking,"

_Sure, maybe, but we can't forget the fact that you really like Carmen. You're getting quite attached to her, aren't you?_

"Yeah, Carmen's okay...very okay. She- -" he froze. "More than one voice in my head," he muttered. "Probably just talking to myself." But he couldn't fight off the slight feeling of déjà vu.

_You know, I don't think you should get too close to her._

"Oh yeah?" he snapped, "Why shouldn't I? You think she's a government agent or something? Or worse, the Mafia! There's a million different theories we could play,"

_Oh, no, the girl's clean. She's squeaky clean. If Mr. Clean could jump off of the detergent label and have a kid, it'd be her. But once you get attached to anything, you're no good at taking care of it. That hamster in fifth grade, god knows how many goldfish. Then there's Chico...And Amy._

"I didn't have anything to do with the last two, that was some raving lunatic."

_Right, precisely, a lunatic. Haven't thought about that ass in a long time, have you? What was his name again?_

"John Shooter," he said immediately, as though the incident, which had happened nearly a year ago, had only been yesterday.

_Yeah, that hick, he was a really shady guy. Never caught him, did they?_

"He probably croaked anyway," Mort shrugged. "He was an old guy. Yeah, that's right, he was an old, shady hick from a dairy farm in Mississippi. If you think he's gonna come after Carmen, then you're wrong,"

_Maybe._

"Maybe?" he snapped. "All of this drawn out bullshit up until now, and then all I get is one word?"

_It's the only word I've got to offer you at the moment. But it fits the situation, don't you think? Maybe I'm wrong, and Shooter's gone. Maybe he kicked the bucket. Maybe all he'll ever be to Carmen is a story you told her. Or, maybe..._

"This is crazy!" Mort said, knocking a stack of papers off of the table. "Carmen's a great girl, Shooter's moved on, maybe to go haunt some other lucky bastard, and...I have no clue how to finish this sentence."

Luckily, the phone rang, and Mort's second conscience shut up for the time being. He scooted over to pick it up.

"'Lo?" he said.

"Morning," Carmen's voice laughed brightly. "Did you call here a while ago?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry I didn't say it was me," he chuckled. "Must've slipped my mind. Anyway, what's going on? I thought you were in New York,"

"Just got home," Carmen said, "I was there overnight,"

"There overnight, were you? Where'd you stay?" he asked, a hint of suspicion in his voice. "With a friend? A _male _friend?" _Shit, _he thought, _why am I reacting like this? Bad, bad! So what if she was there with a guy- -_

"No, I stayed in a hotel," Carmen said, seemingly unaffected. "I was there on business."

"Yeah, I heard your machine, sorry about that," Mort said, clicking his tongue, pinching himself for being so stupid. "Anyway, I just called earlier to see if you were busy, but you must be tired from all that driving- -"

"No, not at all!" she said hastily, "I was half asleep at the wheel the whole time, and I've been oversleeping a lot lately. Why? Are you doing anything?" There was a very obvious eager undertone in her voice, unless Mort was just imagining things. _She WANTS to see me. Say something, right now. Talk, you stupid little- -_

"Ah," he said. _AH? All right, here and now, I am BANNING that word from my vocabulary. _"I was wondering if you wanted to come over here for a change."

"You think I could manage without getting lost?" she laughed.

"No, I don't. Actually, I think that if I had you go out into the woods and left you to your own devices, I'd never see you again," he chuckled back, "Which is why I'd be the one to pick you up, bring you back, and all that good stuff."

"Sounds great," she said, genuinely pleased. "And it's _great _to know you have so much faith in my sense of direction,"

"The one time you found my house, it's because you were hopelessly lost," he said, "Although if you were ever lost in the woods again, I'd gladly come to your rescue,"

"Tempting as it sounds, I'll pass on the getting lost part and you can come get me here," she said. "See you in a little while."

After they hung up, both of them jumped up in the air and whooped happily for no apparent reason, and said the exact same thing.

"What the HECK am I gonna wear?!?!"

Carmen, being the girl in the situation, ran upstairs and went through her ever-changing wardrobe, putting things on, taking them off, and driving herself absolutely mad trying to choose an outfit. She found herself making a lot of comments at her reflection.

"Too slutty,"

"Too bright,"

"I _guess _this might work," she finally said.

She slid down the staircase banister and sat down on the couch, deciding to watch TV while she waited. After fifteen more minutes, the doorbell rang. She hastily switched off the TV and practically ran to the door.

"Hi, Mort," she smiled.

"Hi," he said, absolutely beaming. There was no need to ask. For one reason or another, this time, she really _had _gone the extra mile in getting ready. She was wearing black jeans and a beige one-shouldered shirt. But the kicker was that, for the first time, she was wearing her straight, mid-back length hair down. This was the first time he actually got a good look at it.

"Your hair looks great...I bet it's pretty soft," he said, looking at the almost-black river of locks falling around her shoulders. Her eyes twinkled quickly, as though she were about to laugh. He hit himself on the head immediately. "That was a stupid comment. You kinda got me off guard, though. You look good."

"You too," she said sincerely, the smile not having left her face. _He sure cleans up well, _she thought. He was wearing black slacks and a crisp white button-up shirt. Her favorite part about him, in fact, was his hair, and she was glad he had kept it in its usual style.

"Well, milady, your chariot awaits," he said, offering his arm, which she quickly accepted. They walked out to his car, and he opened the door for her.

Carmen was oddly excited to finally see the inside of his house. He cooked...barbecue chicken, inspired by the first thing they had eaten together. They had their usual conversation, now punctuated by new stories about the assholes in New York.

They spent the day there, talking nearly the whole time, and finishing the chicken for lunch as well as the brunch it had been planned as. Then, they went out for a long walk around the lake, unknowingly walking closer and closer to one another as the breeze grew more persistent.

"I remember being out here as a kid," Mort said, "My parents owned this place before they died. I would spend all day under this big tree writing my first stories. I think it's that big one, over there,"

"How can you tell them all apart?" Carmen asked. "They all sort of look the same to me. They've got branches, the leaves, the trunk- -"

"That's what you get, living in the city so long," he laughed. "You stop paying attention to details. You never notice the more subtle things until someone points them out,"

"So go ahead," she replied. "What's the difference between that tree and all the others?"

"Well, just stare at it for a while," he suggested. "See, the branches on that one start closest to the ground. Perfect for short, little midget kids to go climbing and jumping on." He started walking over towards it.

"Where are you going?" Carmen asked.

"Over there," he said simply, "Showing you how to climb a tree."

"What?" she said, "I'll fall!"

"Oh, relax and quit being such a sissy," he laughed. "That's why we're climbing the tree with the lowest branches."

"Yeah, so at least when I hit the ground, I'll have picked up less momentum," she sighed, jogging slightly to catch up with Mort, who had already stepped up onto one of the limbs, reaching out a hand for her. "You really expect me to go up there?"

"Yep," he smiled. He grabbed her hand and pulled her up before she could even protest. "Just a couple more," he said. He started dragging her higher, her hand gripping his for dear life. He didn't mind, and sure as hell didn't let go. The poor girl might have had a heart attack. Finally, he stopped, told her to sit on the thick outstretched limb, and snapped back a few twigs that were in the way. "Look out there, he said, pointing outwards. He gestured at the excellent view, overlooking the entire lake, and somewhere along the way, he pointed out a building. "That's your house,"

"Not too far from yours, if you look from here," she said, the amazement evident in her voice. "You came up here all the time when you were a kid?"

"No, actually, this is the first time I've been this high," he said, shrugging and looking out into the distance. Carmen yelped, wide-eyed, her mouth falling open. Mort just smirked at the scandalized look on her face, trying his hardest not to laugh. "Hey, it's not my fault that I was a short kid. I couldn't reach some of the branches."

"Oh, so we could have fallen because of your lack of experience?" she laughed.

"Fallen? Never!" he replied. "Climb one tree, you've climbed them all."

"What happened to paying attention to details?" she pouted.

"There are such things as unnecessary details," he shrugged.

After a while, he helped her get down after a little bit of trouble trying to get her to jump back to the ground from the lowest limb, and they walked back along the lake. Suddenly, Carmen stopped and ran to the edge of the water, crouching over the surface. "I saw something!" she said.

"What is it?" he asked, hurrying over as she reached downward and caught something in her hands. He leaned over her.

"Look," she said quietly.

"I don't see anything," he muttered, squinting his eyes.

"Huh?" she asked. "That's funny. It's right there! Why don't you look a little bit CLOSER!" she splashed a handful of water in his face and ran away, laughing.

Suddenly, she felt a cold splash on her back and squealed loudly. "You don't wanna start a water fight with me," he laughed loudly. "I _always _win."

"Oh yeah?" Carmen said, running back and splashing even more. "Well, you've obviously never tangoed with me before."

"Shall we dance?" he smirked.

"Oh, yeah," she laughed snidely, "I can feel the beat on this one,"

By the time both of their competitive egos were quenched and they had officially declared their duel a draw, they were both sopping wet. They walked back to the house, and Mort gave Carmen a shirt and sweater to wear, both of which were a few sizes too large for her. She folded up the sleeves a few times, and shrugged.

"At least I'm warm," she laughed.

When it was starting to get dark, they reluctantly decided it was time for her to go home. He spent the car ride, laughing at the fact that the sleeves of his shirt that she was wearing kept unfolding whenever she moved her arm. At the dreaded moment when they finally arrived and he was going to have to leave, he walked her to her door.

"Today was good," he said simply, wiping his hands on the inside of his shirtsleeves. "Most I've enjoyed myself in a long time,"

"Yeah, I had a great time," she smiled brightly. She leaned upward and kissed him on the cheek. Before he could say anything, she just gave another smile and went inside. Mort stood outside for a good thirty seconds, gaping.

_That was a _'_just friends' type of kiss, _he thought. _It had to be._

Meanwhile, Carmen had run upstairs and, for the first time in quite while, thrown herself on the bed. She squealed loudly into a pillow.

_Now I've done it, _she thought. _Scared him off!_

She crossed her arms in front of her face, trying to shield her eyes from the light. She inhaled deeply, then sighed in a rather dreamy manner. _The sweater smells like him. Well, no duh, of course it smells like him, it's his, but- -hey, wait! Why should I care if it smells like him anyway? It's not like I go around sniffing people, is it? I'm so not..._

She threw a pillow onto the ground and lay down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "What do I really think of him?" she muttered into the empty room. "I guess I might- -"

YOU'VE GOT MAIL!

Her computer, which remained on at all times, practically shouted at her. She ran downstairs and checked it.

_Carmen_

_Can you say EMERGENCY? I'll be by your place sometime later with a draft of an article I need you to look over. It's got to run in this next issue, and I have no clue what to think of it. Actually, it makes no sense and I can't make heads or tails of it, but I know you can. I mean, that's your job, isn't it? Making sense of the crap that these people come up with. You're gonna need to work your magic. See Ya._

"Rob, you fucktard, your timing could not be worse," she sighed. She read the email. Rob would be by 'later'. That meant some time tomorrow, seeing as it would take a while for him to get there. Still, it left her no time to bask in the afterglow of how much she had enjoyed this past day. That ass sure knew how to get a girl down.

Then, she realized he had sent the email that morning. If she counted correctly, the amount of time it took to drive, sans traffic- -

She jumped when the doorbell rang. Wearily, she answered the door.

"Come in, Rob," she said professionally.

"Yeah," he said. He pulled a packet of papers out and handed it to her. "That's something we're going to run in the next issue, but it's only the first draft," he said.

"Next time, don't leave it so last minute," she said, staring intently at the paper and reading. "You want me to edit this?" She said, her eyes flitting over the paper. Her face wrinkled critically. "I mean, you really want me to work with this?"

"That's the idea," Rob said, crossing his arms.

"Well, at the moment, it's pretty much crap, so it's going to take a while," she said, sitting down on the couch and pulling her red felt pen, which she always carried with her out of habit, out of her pocket. She tossed Rob the remote control, saying only two words. "Get comfy."

Ten minutes into her work, the phone rang. "Shit," she said quietly, "Can't catch a break, can I?"

She reached over towards the table and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Hey, Carmen," Mort's voice echoed on the other line. "I was just calling to say I had a great time...again. I said that already. Damn- -"

"I wouldn't mind saying it again either," she laughed, nowhere near as tense-sounding as she had been just a few seconds ago. _And I certainly don't get tired of him saying it._

"We should really do it again sometime," he said, hoping to sound casual.

"Carmen, get back over here, you're sort of in the middle of something. Who's that on the phone?" Rob asked. Mort heard his voice in the background.

"Oh, sorry," he said tersely, clearing his throat. "I didn't know you had _company_."

"What?" Carmen asked. "No he's not here because I- -"

"If you had plans, you could've said so," he said gruffly.

Carmen heard him slam the receiver down.

"Thanks a lot, fucktard!" she said, hitting Rob hard on the side of the head. He flinched and sat back down. She had gotten him hard upside the head more than once during the time they had worked together. She glared at him harshly for a few seconds, then, she got back to work. Now Mort had this idea that she...Rob..._Ugh, the day I think of Rob as an eligible bachelor is the day he learns to do his own job. That'd be...hm...NEVER.._

The article, which was barely two pages, took nearly three hours of editing before Carmen dubbed it 'better than garbage' and promptly rushed Rob out of the house.

"That dumbass," she groaned, throwing herself onto her usual sleeping spot on the rug. "Tactless idiot, has no clue how to shut up while I'm on the phone!"

Her head was swelling with odd, slightly unwelcome thoughts. _I shouldn't be worrying so much. Mort didn't mean anything by it. If he got jealous, that would mean that he..._

She buried her head into her pillow, pulling the blanket off of the couch and willing herself to go to sleep.

After nearly an hour of tossing and turning, she gave up and decided just not to sleep.

_Unbelievable...Am I worried about this? _she thought. _It's nothing to worry about. Friends let friends talk to other people of the opposite sex. Besides, if Mort thinks I'm dating Rob, he's got the wrong idea...not that I care or anything, because I don't. I don't care. I absolutely do not care. Don't care. Don't give a damn...really._

"Ugh, this is bad," she muttered aloud into the darkness of her living room, staring up at the ceiling. "I really do give a damn."

* * *

Thanks mucho to my first reviewers! Yay! first reviewers are the best!

**Dawnie-7 over-dramatic-05 Jacks-Strumpet**

You guys are uber cool!

****


	3. a BIG Something

All right, let's get this started. I don't own anything except for the plot, Rob, and Carmen...

Thanks to my Ch.2 Reviewers: Jacks-Strumpet, Dawnie-7 (haha, yeah, Rob _can _be a reall fuckmook, can't he?), Kurama13, and over-dramatic-05 (Ooh, we'll talk about Shooter later...)

On with it? Yes? Okay? Okay!

* * *

Neither Carmen nor Mort called one another for a week, throwing themselves into their work and trying to clear their minds of the other. Neither had any mind to apologize, and both would wait until the other gave in, thought they knew it was unlikely. They wouldn't say a thing until the other admitted they were wrong.

But Carmen couldn't shake the feeling that maybe Mort had acted up, and was ignoring her for a reason

And Mort couldn't help but think that Carmen was nothing like Amy. Carmen wasn't the kind of girl who'd replace him with a dumbass with a stupid, three-letter name.

Still, stubborn as they were, they made no move to talk to each other.

Carmen was sitting, looking over plans for magazine layout designs on her computer, when she realized that she would never be able to concentrate on this. She'd do a half-ass job until she figured out just what was going on.

Without bothering to change her clothes, she grabbed the car keys and rushed out the door. Funny, how an adrenaline rush can give you such purpose, and such a good sense of direction. Without making a wrong turn once, she found herself in front of his house. She got out, slammed her door shut, and practically flew up to his front door. After a few deep breaths, she knocked more gently than she had first intended to. Actually, what she had first intended to do was knock the door down and really give Mort a piece of her mind.

"If that's Carmen, get the hell away from here!" she heard him yell from inside. She flinched slightly at his tone. "I don't wanna talk to you."

"Well, I'm not exactly your biggest fan right now either!" she said loudly, "But I don't exactly appreciate being ignored!"

"Yippee for you,"

"Mort Rainey, I am _coming _into this house if I have to climb up onto your roof and fall right into your fireplace!" she yelled, leaning closer to the door to make sure he heard her.

"I'll light the fire then," he snapped.

"That'd be on your conscience, then," She said, "I'm running on way too much adrenaline to let the prospect of getting crispy-fried bother me."

The door opened. Mort lookedâ€less than put together at the moment. Though he didn't seem half as bad as he did right after his divorce, Carmen had never seen him that way, so this seemed pretty bad. He looked like he'd slept in his pajamas without changing for the entire week, and hadn't bothered with his hair.

"You look like you've just gotten hit by a truck. What the heck is up with you?" she said, crossing her arms.

"Nothing," he grumbled, stepping aside so she could come in. She didn't move an inch. "Nothing's happening. Why would you think that?"

"We've known each other two weeks, give or take, right?" she inquired vaguely. "How come you're suddenly treating me like I did something wrong?"

"Nothing," he repeated, shaking his head. "Look, would you just come inside already? At the rate you're going, you'll pass out if you keep standing out there,"

"I'm not coming in," she snapped resolutely, "This is gonna be short and sweet. What the hell is up right now?"

"Nothing!" he growled. Carmen narrowed her eyes at him (something she liked to call her "I'm-the-boss" glare). "All right, it's something, but it's not you. It just sorta reminds me ofâ€something,"

"Oh! So we're not friends anymore because I remind you of _something_? Oh, _gee, _that answers everything, so I can leave now!" She quipped, rolling her eyes and blowing her hair out of her face.

"Look, it's a _big_ something!" he snapped. "The first time I suspected Amy wasâ€having something on the sideâ€was when I called her cell phone. I heard Ted's voice in the background asking who she was talking toâ€It just brings back bad memories."

"Oh," Carmen said apologetically.

"Look, I don't want to stop being friends. I'm just a little high-strung or whatever," he said. "Like I said, it's not you,"

_Quit trying to be a martyr, it's DEFINITELY her._

"Glad that's settled," she shrugged, smiling weakly. _See, it was nothing, just a misunderstanding. He doesn't think of me like that. Obviously! I shouldn't have thought that he might- -_ "I guess there's nothing else left to take care of, so I'll just go," she turned around and walked back to her car. As soon as she was gone, Mort hit himself on the forehead.

_What were you expecting her to say? Did you think she was just going to bawl her eyes out and tell the world she was in love with you?_

"What? Why would I want to hear her say that?" he grumbled, going back inside the house and slamming the door shut behind him. "Where would I get the DERANGED idea that she'd think of me asâ€well, more than just a friend?"

_Oh, I can think of a whole lot of reasons. One: You're desperate, and you want a girl that badly. Two: You think it'd work because, let's face it, she's the exact opposite of Amy. Three: You want HER to say she' in love with you because YOU'RE in love with HER. _

"Hah, I thought I was speaking to the voice of reason," Mort scoffed. "You know as well as I do that I've sworn off of girls forever. I'll be the eternal bachelor, and I'll die smilin' in this bachelor pad, because I don't NEED some _chick, _if I've got my laptop and my Doritos. I've got all I need to take care of myself, thanks,"

_So she can't compare to your precious stale Doritos and flat Mountain Dew? Do you think Carmen's a GIRL? A chick? _

"Well, no," Mort said pensively. "Okay, point taken. But I think we've established that she thinks of me as her _buddy _so this is pointless."

_Have you never watched Beauty and the Beast? The girl from the city gets stuck in the woods in a castle, a guy who the people in town hate. They start getting close, and BAM, they fall in love, and everyone's fine and dandy. _

"A few glitches in your theory," he said irately. "One, we're not cartoon characters, and she's got a car, not a scaredy-cat horse. Two, she's a city big shot who knows how to take care of herself, not a small town sweetheart being courted by a Fabio-wannabe. Three, if she somehow did happen to fall in love with me, I'm not getting any handsomer, so that takes away a bit of the _Beauty and the Beast _novelty."

_Your looks don't seem to bother her much._

"It's because she's, well, nice," Mort shrugged.

_Nice? Nice is ponies, and bunnies, and pink cotton candy. I think you know that this is a whole different story._

"Just shut up," he moaned, rubbing his temples with his thumb and forefinger.

_Fine, fine, you won't accept it yet. But you'll get the point eventually. It'll hit you right between the eyes_

"Whatever," he grumbled, drowning out that voice in his head with the loud crunching of a newly opened bag of Doritos.

As soon as Carmen got home, she picked up the phone and dialed the only number she could think ofâ€the only other soul she would even think to talk to. It rang four times before, to her relief, someone actually answered. "Hello, Rob?"

"Something wrong with the layouts I sent for you to look at?" he asked. "Because if there is, I can tell the art director that all three of them are crap and tell him to just make new ones. I thought they were a little bit over-the-top anyway, with all those bold lines. We'll give the readers epileptic fits- -"

"Actually, this isn't a business call," Carmen said. "I needed to talk to someone about a guy's perspective of things."

"Oh, really?" Rob asked.

"Yeah, really," Carmen sighed, "I didn't know of anyone, so I called you,"

"Oh, flattered," he laughed sarcastically. "So, how can I be of service to my former boss and current holder of my short leash?"

"If a guy says that heâ€doesn't want to stop being friends," she began, trying to phrase everything correctly, "Does that mean that the buck stops there?"

"Well, depends on the guy," Rob said unsurely after a short hesitation. "Listen, are you crazy over some guy up there?" he asked. "I mean, if you are, he'd better be different from the guys you hooked up with here,"

"Robert Wallace, quit worrying about me," she said seriously. "I'm just asking for a second opinion, not a psychoanalysis."

"Carmen, I can't help it," he replied, "We've been friends since before you worked at _A-List_, and I know that you've got a record of picking the worst ones out of the crowd,"

"I picked a good one once," she said distantly. "He was a real keeper, remember?"

"Yeah, that one was marriage material and everything," Rob laughed weakly, "And it turned out you and I were just supposed to be friends."

"Look, Rob, I'm not one to just bare my soul like this, so listen," she said quietly. "Something about Mortâ€this guy here, it's different. Somehow, he's different from every guy I ever ended up with in New York, even you. I'm not sure what it means, but he's just not the same as other guys."

"Do you have feelings for him?" he asked.

"Rob, cut it out," Carmen sighed, "This isn't some soap opera. You don't just realize you have feelings for someone all of a sudden. It's that weird, in-the-middle kind of feeling, where you don't have a clue which way you're leaning,"

"Well, I've got my conclusion for you," Rob said. "I've never heard you talk about some guy like this before. Just friend or Mr. Right, he's something special. But from where I'm standing, it looks like you have feelings for the guy- -"

"Yeah, well, I'll just sleep on it for now," she interrupted quietly and hung up before she heard the end of his sentence.

"And the guy's stupid if he doesn't have feelings for you"

The phone call had just confirmed what Carmen had been thinking all along, and yet she didn't really want to accept it. He couldn't be right. After all, what did Rob know? He had only been her only confidant for, what, seven years?

It started out as them dating, and it was sweet at the time, but it ended in less than four months. Actually, the ending was gradual, until they mutually decided that they were better off as friends.

"Maybe that's how all good relationships go," she muttered to herself. "Maybe, if you do things right, they start as one thing and end up as another. Maybe all good friends had to realize that they weren't meant to be in love with each other first. Maybe two people who were meant to be together had to work through the unlikely friendship stage to get to that point. Maybe

Rob had given her advice about the male species on more than one other occasion, but the best advice came, not verbally, but through experience. In order to get the ball rolling on their relationship, she had to write 'I Love You, Rob!' on his office window in Crayola finger-paints.

_"I think I needed that," he had said, laughing the next day, seeing that the words wouldn't wash off , "I'm a guy. Sometimes, I need a girl to just state the obvious."_

That was exactly it. She needed to do something that would catch Mort's attention and yet not scare him off. This was a different situation. She wasn't really sure of what she wanted to come out of it, or what she wanted to be to Mort. She just knew that she had to let him know, at least, that he was something he couldn't live without now. She was hooked on having a companion, a real confidant, and he at least had to know that much.

"The question is, how do I do it?" she said, crossing her arms and sitting down on the couch. She sat down and started planning, and once she got to plotting, she could come up with more than your average girl.

"This is stupid," Mort muttered. "She said it herself, everything's resolved. Just give her a call and ask if she's busy."

_Yeah, it sounds that easy, doesn't it?_

"It IS easy," he snapped. "It's easy as a corner-whore. I'm not a teenager."

_But you sure feel like one, don't you?_

"You're challenging me," he muttered.

_Am I?_

"Like hell, you are, and I'll teach you to challenge me," he said, charging towards the phone and picking it up, dialing quickly so he wouldn't have time for second thoughts. It rang, a good sign, seeing as she could have decided to unhook it. It rang twice, three times, four

"Hey, you've reached Carmen's place," said that uncharacteristically cheery recording.

"Damn it," Mort muttered.

"Sorry, not here, so leave a message at the beep," she said. Typical greeting, but something at the end wasn't. "Oh, and if this is Mort, I'm really, really sorry I'm not here. I mean, really. Knew you'd call, though, because I'm a girl and I'm just smart like that. You'd better catch this in time, too, or else you waited too long, and you're way too stubborn. Eight o'clock tonight, turn on your radio. Leave it on your usual station, too. Trust me. Don't worry, all's well!"

Mort hadn't planned on a personalized answering machine message. He hesitated. "Um, okay, I'll take you word for it," he said. Then, he hung up.

_Six thirty...excited?_

"For what?" he shrugged.

* * *

Carmen and her cryptic, perky answering machine messages. sigh _Now _what?

Review, or you'll never know! XD


	4. Sweet as She Should Be

_Okeeday!!! _I own...well, a lot of air, Carmen, the radio station, Daniel, and Rob. (just keep reading if these things don't seem familiar.) Let's depress me even more and list the things that I don't own, shall we?

_The Nearness of You _(The song, a la Norah Jones)  
Mort  
And Lots of other things.

_

* * *

_

_Tick tock, Mort, only a few long, agonizing minutes left before the big surprise. Someone's excited. Someone's excited enough to piss in his pants, wondering what kind of surprise his dream girl has waiting for him._

"You make it sound so...kinky," Mort said, literally trying to swat the voice out of his head. "I'm just curious about what's going on here, that's all,"

Nearly eight o'clock, and Mort had been sitting in front of his stereo the whole time since he had made that call. At the exact moment the hour hand hit eight, he switched the radio tuner on, listening intently.

Oddly enough, he needn't have paid such close attention, seeing as what he was waiting for was, in fact, the night's main attraction.

"...wouldn't believe it if I hadn't been here myself, we had a special guest here at the station this morning," the announcer laughed, "Carmen Anderson, former editor of the _A-List_, number one weekly magazine on the East Coast, dropped by and christened our new in-house recording studio. Left in a hurry, but gave specific orders to dedicate this one to special guy out there. Well, buddy, if you know who you are, you're one lucky bastard. Let's have a listen to living proof that, yes, some entrepreneurs have talent, Carmen Anderson!"

There was a light sizzle of static, and once again, Mort heard Carmen's recording-voice speaking to him. "Hey...hope you're listening. Yeah, it's me, Carmen. Don't be mad at me anymore, all right?"

And then it hit, like a bolt of lightning on a crisp stormy night. The voice singing on the radio sounded hardly anything like Carmen's...but it was.

It's not the pale moon that excites me

That thrills and delights me, oh no

It's just the nearness of you

It isn't your sweet conversation

That brings this sensation, oh no

It's just nearness of you

When you're in my arms

And I feel you so close to me

All my wildest dreams came true

I need no soft lights to enchant me

If you will only grant me

The right to hold you everso tight

And to feel in the night

The nearness of you

_Right between the eyes, I told you._

"That's just to suck up to me," Mort shrugged, shaking his head in what was most likely disbelief. He clicked off the radio, more forcefully then he might have had to. "It's her way of apologizing,"

_You really have no clue. You're that Alicia Silverstone movie chick. You're goddamn **clueless**. Just because she doesn't come straight out and say it doesn't mean that she isn't completely hooked on you. You're divorced, not DEAD._

"Well, what am I supposed to do?" Mort snapped, "Even if she does want to see me, she can't possibly be home anyway. I can't call her." He reached over unknowingly to his phone and placed it on the table in front of him, as though he were about to eat his words.

_What, are telephones the only form of contacting other humans, or is your phonograph still in the shop today? Wait for her, you dumbfuck! Sit like a stalker on her front porch, pick some flowers, and say something cute._

"For once, I do believe I'll take your advice," he said with a smile, nodding and pulling on his jacket. He bolted straight out the door.

Meanwhile, Carmen had just gotten back into town, and was too famished to wait any longer. She parked right in front of the diner and walked inside. She was surprised to see everyone staring slightly at her. She sat down quietly and ordered an egg salad sandwich and a coffee. The man next to her cleaned her throat.

"We were all listening to the radio just earlier," he said. "You're putting yourself on death row, ma'am. I don't think you know what you're dealing with when you line yourself up with Morton Rainey."

"Well, then, I can tell you're dying to inform me," she said sarcastically, but then added, more sincerely, "Why? What do you know about him?"

"I don't want for you to get hurt, miss. You seem like a nice girl," he said. "Miss Anderson, right?" he grinned toothily.

"Just Carmen," she said uncomfortably. _The ugly ones who flirt with you and reinforce chauvinist stereotypes at the same time are the worst kind. _"Don't bother with the formality,"

"Pleasure. I'm Daniel Bartlett," he said offhandedly. "Anyhow, Mort Rainey isn't right in the mind at times. He's cleaned up a bit, but we all know."

"Know what?" Carmen said, taking a sip off her coffee.

"I bet he told you about how he split with his wife, and how she disappeared pretty conveniently afterwards," Daniel muttered conspiratorially. "Well, if you'd been around, you would've noticed that there were some strange coincidences."

"Maybe it was just gossip," she shrugged. She glanced around the people in the diner, all of which had someone they would turn to and whisper with. "It's plausible,"

"Made up people in his head," Daniel continued. "This stalker he thought up, no one ever heard of him before. No one ever saw him either, which didn't click with the police. It didn't make any sense."

"What are you trying to say?" Carmen asked shakily. "Amy, Ted Milner, that investigator, Mr. Greenleaf...are you saying that they just disappeared? Sorry to shoot down your theory, but that's highly unlikely."

"He killed those people, rubbed 'em out," Daniel said quietly. Carmen gasped, and her hand moved as if she were about to hit him. "The truth hurts, and it must be a real blow to hear all of this after what you just did. Sorry to scare you, but it's that simple. He's not a balanced guy- -"

"Cancel my order," she said to the waitress. "I've been driving all day, and I think I'm just going to go home," she nodded in regards to Daniel and walked out. She stumbled out to her car, shaking her head. "No way," she said, narrowing her eyes and fumbling through her pockets for her keys. "Not Mort. He's the best guy I've ever met. He'd never..."

She unlocked her car door and started it. The night was clear, and she drove up to her house, her brain completely jumbled. She had to make a quick swerve once in a while to avoid hitting a stray squirrel, though it would really take a load off to squash one of those furry little mongrels for getting in her way.

Right when she stepped out and shut the car door, she saw that her porch lights were on. She squinted and saw someone standing there with their back turned.

"Mort?" she called out, walking up the stepping stones. "What are you doing out here by yourself?" He turned around. She smirked at him, cocking her head to the side. "Your house is a little further that way, remember?

"You sure stay out late," he said with a smile. Now, he was hiding something behind his back. "I finished listening to the radio almost an hour ago,"

"So you did try to call me," she laughed. "Good to know you're still trying to contact me. I thought you weren't ever going to start talking to me again. Whatcha got behind your back?"

"You sound like a five-year-old," he laughed.

"I wanna know!" she pouted, crossing her arms. "Let me see, come on,"

"Come over here," he said, nodding his head. She sped up slightly so she was standing right in front of him in a few seconds. Then, she tried to peer around him, but he just moved.

"Impatient, aren't we?" he chided. "It's a surprise for someone,"

"Well, is it for me?" she said. He nodded. "If it's mine, then why can't I see?"

"Close your eyes," he laughed. She obliged. He waved his hand in front of her face to make sure she wasn't peeking. "When I count to three, open them. One, two...three!"

Carmen's eyes opened, and she saw him holding out a small bunch of wildflowers. "Oh my god," she said with a smile. "They're so pretty!" She looked him in the face, absolutely beaming, then looked down at her shoe.

"So, you sing too," he nodded, also looking off in a different direction. "What made you think up the song? That was without a doubt the most creative apology I've ever received."

"The song?" she said quietly, shuffling her foot slightly. "Well, I dunno. I've liked it since I was a kid. Why? Not your type?"

"No, I love it," he said, "It was one of my favorites...before I met Amy. She never liked slow songs much."

"Oh," Carmen nodded.

"Do me a favor?" Mort asked.

"Sure," she shrugged, looking out over his shoulder.

"Look me in the face?" he requested earnestly. She swallowed slightly and looked straight into his eyes, blushing brighter by the moment. "I'm gonna commit a major no-no and compare you to my ex...but bear with me. I could read her like a book when I looked into her eyes, but you...it's like trying to look through fog in December. What are you thinking?"

"What am I thinking? Um..." she muttered. "This," she leaned forward and put her lips gingerly against his. She pulled back sheepishly, her big brown eyes wide and innocent, still piercing into his. "Yeah, that's pretty much it."

"Really," he said, clearing his throat lightly. Whatever plans he had made for this conversation were now thrown out the window. "I was thinking more along the lines of this," He put his hand behind her head and pulled her face closer to his. Her lips tasted sugary sweet, and he wasn't surprised. It was only right that she taste just as good as she made him feel. He ran his tongue over her lower lip, and she parted her lips slightly, then pulled back, smiling.

"Typical," she giggled. "Men have no clue about subtlety. A girl's gotta pull an elaborate stunt so he notices her, huh? Gotta hit him right between the eyes?"

"Right between the eyes," he said with a smile, "And you've hit a perfect Bullseye,"

"It's getting cold," she laughed. "Come inside." She unlocked the door, and they both went inside. Mort sat down on the couch, while she walked up to her room.

_That was...amazing, _Mort thought, _unbelievably amazing_. He leaned his elbow on the coffee table and stared into the unlit fireplace.

In a few minutes, Carmen came back downstairs, having changed into black jogging pants and a white tanktop, and bounced onto the couch next to him, putting her head on his shoulder. She had a vague smile, but also a blank look to her face. The thought that had first occurred to Mort when he saw her now came back to him.

"You seemed a little off when you first got home," he said. "Like something was bothering you. Is something wrong?"

"Not exactly," she said. "I stopped off at the diner before I came home, and someone there was just a little creepy."

"A lot of people around here are a bit out of it," he chuckled. She laughed with him, and he smiled even wider, feeling her moving against him.

"It's no secret that the people down there aren't your biggest fans," she said after a pause. "They were just gossiping. Probably breaking me in after hearing what they heard on the radio."

"Someone told you that crazy rumor," Mort said knowingly. "They think I'm behind what happened to...all those people. They think I'm crazy."  
"It went a little like that, I guess," she shrugged.

"Don't worry about it," he nodded, kissing her on the forehead. "I know you don't believe them."

"Good," she smiled.

"So, now where do we stand?" Mort asked, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "Are we a couple now? Or just, well, _very _close friends,"

"I guess that depends on you," Carmen sighed.

"I know what you mean," he nodded. "I mean, after Amy, I'm still reeling. I trust you more than I ever trusted her, but no matter how long after the divorce, I'll always feel guilty. I'll always feel bad, because if you think you're just a rebound- -"

"AM I a rebound?" she asked. "I have complete, total faith that you don't think of me that way. Am I wrong to think that?"

"No, but I'm used to being guilt-tripped," he said sincerely. "Being with me means not always being number one, I'll be honest. I don't know how to be suave all the time. I can't be everything you want."

"Listen, we're close and all, but you don't know me well enough to know 'everything I want.' You think I don't understand what it's like to get buried in my work?" she asked. "Mort, just believe me, I won't do what other girls might. I'll understand what's going on, if you need space. I mean, I knew how to act as your friend, didn't I?"

"You're right," he nodded.

"See, all's well," she smiled, "But you're changing the subject. I want you to tell me the whole story about that rumor. Where would everyone get the idea that you killed four people?"

"And a dog," Mort chuckled darkly. "Don't forget Chico,"

"Mort, I'm not joking around," Carmen said, pulling away and crossing her arms.

"It's NOTHING," he insisted, "The guy who did it disappeared, people got suspicious when I suddenly cleaned up my act, and the gossip-mongers decided to make a mountain out of a molehill."

"You're sure that's all that happened?" Carmen said, standing up. "I believe that you didn't do it, don't misunderstand me. But did you do anything that might even just look incriminating."

"No!" he persisted. "People down there just don't get it, all right? They're too small-minded to comprehend that just because I'm a writer and I live here alone doesn't mean that I'm crazy. I thought maybe you would- -"

"All right," she breathed quietly. "I can see that." she sighed lightly and sat back down on the couch. "It's dark outside already. We don't want you falling asleep at the wheel. Just stay over tonight," she suggested.

"That's the thing I was hoping to hear," he laughed, both of them calming down. "Couch again?"

"If you don't mind sleeping there again," Carmen smiled. "I've got to check up on things for the magazine, then I'll probably drop like a fly too." She leaned over, kissed him, then got up and went upstairs.

Mort must have been exhausted, because he fell asleep almost right away and was sprawled on the couch before Carmen had even gotten upstairs. She looked down at him and laughed quietly as she turned on her computer.

A loud beep came up as an instant message popped open on the screen.

**RWallBall:** you get it?

**KARMACARM**: what, did u tell a joke? haha, then. im not psychic, Rob 

**RWallBall: **I mean the letter

**KARMACARM: **obviously not...wat letter?

**RWallBall:** u can just wait for it.

**KARMACARM: **wtf? tell me now!

**RWallBall: **dam, ur impatient, woman

**KARMACARM: **fine, just tell me! ... nothing's broken then?

**KARMACARM: **u didn't burn anything down?

**KARMACARM: **lose anything?

**RWallBall: **good 2 see u have so much faith in me

**KARMACARM: **don't take it personally

**KARMACARM: **ur male. it's 2 b expected

**KARMACARM: **if nothings broken, then I'm retiring 4 the night

Carmen shut it down, then tiptoed downstairs. The lights were all off already, so she walked more carefully then usual. She was about to lie down at her usual spot on the floor when her legs hit something.

She squinted and looked down. Mort had unfolded the couch bed...the confounded couch bed that had never opened before.

"Typical," she whispered to no one in particular. "Out of all the guys I could have found, I picked the miracle worker." She got on next to him and pulled on the blanket. She kissed him on the cheek and went to sleep.

And maybe Mort was going to have sweet dreams for once too.

* * *

All righty...hmm....I want you guys to answer a question for me, pretty please (and referring my story to anyone you know would be nice, but i won't push it.)

Anyhoo, I have a lot of the story mapped out, but i want to know...Is there any one particular character you want to see...ahem...taught a lesson? Think of anyone.

Also, did you think the song thing was corny? I sort of did. But a friend of mine did something similar for her boyfriend (except it was only on a schoolwide radio station) and I thought it was kinda weird. If you want me to exclude cheesy things like that, then please tell me.

And please, oh, **please **refer any of my fics to friends. I'm kinda losing motivation here, with so few reviews.... :sigh:


	5. Femme Fatale

Okay, do I really need to make myself feel worse about the fact that I don't own anything _good?_

* * *

"Stupid little piece of..." Carmen groaned as her alarm went off at five in the morning, swatting at the clock radio on the side table in annoyance. Sure, she usually woke up at this time every morning to read the truckloads of email Rob sent her at very ungodly hours, but today, she just wanted to stay asleep. She wanted to just keep her eyes shut and dream for the rest of her life. She wanted to grab that stupid clock and...

"Don't kill the alarm," Mort grumbled, rubbing at his eyes and grabbing her wrist. Carmen raised an eyebrow at him as though he had just read her mind. "Smashing the appliances won't help you get back to sleep. Believe me, I've tried it."

Carmen sat up and stretched. "I'm not a morning person," she whined, rolling her shoulders. "I wake up, and I'm grumpy until noon,"

"You're not grumpy when I'm over in the morning," he pointed out.

"That's because you're here," Carmen smiled airily. "I've got to check the mail." She stood up and went outside. In a few seconds, she came back in looking through a bunch of envelopes. "You think that these sweepstakes things would stop coming." She threw about three into the trash without even bothering to open them. Then, she stopped, staring at the only one left in her hand. She opened it and her eyes flew wide open.

"What is it?" Mort asked.

"Rob found it, this has got to be what he was telling me about last night," she said breathlessly. "My mother's name. He sent someone down to the group home and checked their files...Barbara Allen. Oh my god..." _He must think I'm a lunatic, _she thought, _making such a big deal about knowing my mom's name._

"Wow," Mort said genuinely, walking over and putting a hand on her shoulder. Still, he noticed that she hadn't told him everything, "No father?"

"No," Carmen shrugged. "But I don't need that much. I know enough. I mean, it's a last name, right? I don't have to make it up anymore."

Mort felt something twitch inside him, somewhere in his gut. He shrugged it off, thinking it might just be Carmen's emotion rubbing off on him.

"A last name is last name I guess," Carmen shrugged. "It's not too far from 'Anderson'. I'll still have to go by Anderson or else people are gonna get confused and think I'm married."

"Well," he said, clearing his throat, "I have to get back home. You know how writers get when they get separated from their work too long,"

"Gotcha," Carmen laughed, kissing him on the cheek. "Run free!"

"Hey," Mort said, gently catching her chin in his hand. "Say bye properly,"

"Fine," she said. She leaned upward and put his face closer to his. She stayed still for a while, touched her nose to his, then pulled back. "Bye properly!"

"All right, you win for now," he chuckled. "I'll call you,"

"You'd better," she pouted, crossing her arms.

"Yes ma'am," he said, opening the door and stepping out. He went out to his car and started it, but couldn't leave right away. He stared into her window for a few more seconds, then finally got to moving his car.

_You really, really like this one. Heart skips a beat, palms get sweaty, all that good stuff. _

"Yeah, and if you don't mind, I'd like to keep it pleasant," Mort said, humming along to the radio. "So just butt out of this one. For once, I can handle it,"

_If you can handle it on your own, then why am I here? Why did you call back the extra voice in your head if you didn't need me?  
_"What are you trying to say?" he snapped.

_Slightly unpleasant things tend to happen to people that you get close to, don't they? Maybe you should steer clear of Carmen._

"I don't very much appreciate your suggestion- -"

_It's not just a suggestion. I'm **telling** you, if you know what's good for you and for Carmen, you'll break it off as soon as possible._

"We just got together last night, and you want me to break it off," Mort grumbled.

_The less you get attached, the less it hurts. Are you gonna be selfish and **not **look out for her?_

"Yesterday, you were giving me orders to just go after her, and now you switch your position? Well, if you're going to play the devil's advocate here, then take some of _my_ advice. Just fuck off, because I can _handle _this!" he roared into the empty car, slamming his hands hard on the steering wheel. Luckily, no one was around to hear his horn go off as he hit it with his fist.

_All right...all right, you can keep denying it. I'll be waiting. I'll be waiting for him to come back. You know who I'm talking about. If he comes back, Carmen's gonna get it worse than anyone else did. _

"Shooter won't lay a hand on her!" Mort screamed. "I won't let him!"

_Now how did you know I was talking about **him **and not anyone else? You've seen it coming too. You can't stop him, remember? You can't tell him to leave her alone._

"This time, I _can_," he growled menacingly. "He isn't going to kill her,"

_He won't kill her, hm? That's fine. He might now. There are worse things, after all._

And the voice spoke no more.

Mort hit the brakes hard as he got home and ran into his house. He slammed the door behind him and locked it. This was bad.

"He can't. Shooter won't come back, will he?" he asked. For the very first time, he had asked himself a question and received no answer. This frustrated him to no end. "WILL HE?" Still, there was nothing but silence. "He's not coming back," he said, wishing that his own voice would suffice. "He's not ever coming back here."

**"Aren't I?"**

Mort whirled around, only to find that no one was there. "Back for round two, shithead?" he roared. No one answered. "Shit," he said, sitting down on the couch and putting his head in his hands. "I don't need this. I'm just hearing things, and we know what that means," He rolled over on his side and went down for nice, long midday nap.

If his dreams last night had been the best he'd ever had, then this one was a nightmare that made him want to die.

He wasn't falling, or bleeding. He wasn't even hurt. But...

There was John Shooter standing right in front of him.

"You fought me off once," he drawled. "But it ain't gonna be happenin' again."

"You think you're gonna do it all over?" Mort said in a low, threatening voice. "You think you're take a shovel to her like you did to Amy and leave me another little note?" He gulped loudly. This was the first time he had thought about how Amy had died...at least, how he remembered it.

Shooter had killed her, and when he woke up from yet another nap, he found a note attached to the fridge, saying it was a little too late, and that he'd be on his way, seeing as he'd done just about all the damage he could.

"You killed my wife and you're _still _not finished?" he said, shaking with anger.

"Oh, we both know that the damned vixen deserved it, Mister Rainey," he laughed darkly. "I done you a favor you didn't deserve by killin' her off. But no, this one ain't gonna go...not so messy like that,"

"You...you don't know what the hell you're talking about," Mort protested shakily. "Who's _this one_?"

"Don't worry, I got summat else in mind for the lady," Shooter grinned, showing all of his old, yellowing teeth. "Summat more _dignified_."

Even in a dream, Mort couldn't bring himself to threaten Shooter, not after what happened before. All he could bring himself to say was, "Don't,"

"Don't?" Shooter asked mockingly, "I thought you'd have learned by now, Mister Rainey. You can't tell me what to do."

"You aren't going to lay a hand on Carmen, you hick bastard," he said quietly, balling his fists and working up all his nerve.

"Maybe, maybe not," Shooter said, his eyes narrowing in a sadistic type of glee. He tipped his wide-brimmed hat and turned away. In an instant, the view of the back of his head faded into the likeness of Carmen's back. She turned to face him.

"Why?" she asked, her voice echoing as though she were too far away to be heard correctly. "You could have stopped this."

"Stopped what?" Mort said, leaning forward.

"You let this happen," she said, shaking her head. Her eyes were tearing slightly. "You didn't tell me. You didn't say anything."

"Carmen?" he said desperately. He reached out to touch her, only to find that she was slipping farther and farther away. "Carmen, come back,"

"I can't," she said, her voice growing less and less clear. "I'll never come back. You're losing me, Mort. You're doing this..." She began to fade away, as was everything else. Soon, all that was left besides Mort was blackness. He clenched his eyes shut.

"Let me wake up!" he screamed. "For the love of god, just let me wake up!"

_You really thought you were in control, didn't you?_

Mort looked around, and saw himself standing just behind. "I _am _in control. I'm _dreaming_."

_You're losing it again, Mort. You're losing everything._

"What? What am I losing?" he said in frustration, running his hands violently through his hair. "This dream doesn't make any goddamn sense! _WHAT_ am I losing?"

_EVERYTHING! You're losing EVERYTHING, Mort. Being with Carmen is going to be the end of both of you. If you hadn't met her, I wouldn't have had to come back._

"I don't need you!" Mort screamed. "Do you hear me? I DON'T NEED YOU IN MY GODDAMN HEAD! YOU'RE MAKING ME CRAZY!"

_Oh, no. You did that on your own. Carmen can't help you. She wants to, she cares that much. She's everything you could have had, but she'll just get in the way. You'll find her dead in your backyard sooner or later- -"_

"SHE _ISN'T _GOING TO GET KILLED!" he said, threatening to tear out every hair in his dead.

_YES, for the love of Christ, she **is**__and one way or another it's going to be your fault when you have one more dead body to get rid of._

"NO!" Mort roared. "Nothing's going to happen to her. I won't let anything happen." He repeated this over and over again like a chant.

_It's out of your hands, Mort. It's out of your hands. It won't be easy, but it's right. Let her go before it's too late._

Mort woke up in a cold sweat, jumping straight up. One of his flailing arms hit an empty soda can off of the table and sent it clanging to the floor.

"Shit," he muttered, sitting up and running his hands through his hair. "What did she mean, I let it happen? Nothing's happening."

Throughout the day, Carmen had looked over the letter she had received from Rob so many times, she thought it was only a matter of time before she got tired of it. She was contemplating pulling the letter out of the envelope yet again when there was a knock on the door. She ran over to it and opened it.

"Um, good afternoon, sheriff," she muttered unsurely. "Is there a problem,"

"Just checking up on you, miss," he nodded, accepting as she invited him to step inside. "Strange things are known to happen to people up in houses alone."

"I see," she nodded, crossing her arms, "This concern wouldn't have anything to do with my association with Morton Rainey, would it?"

"In part, yes," he said, tongue-in cheek. "I won't lie to you. I want to know if he's told you anything regarding his wife's disappearance. Anything regarding her having died..."  
"I don't know what you're insinuating, but I really don't like what I'm hearing," she replied, taking a step back from him. Mort had told her that she was the first person he had told about the fact that Shooter had killed Amy...and that the bodies had disappeared. It was too suspicious.

"I'm only warning you, miss," he said, holding up a hand defensively. "One day, I'll find what I'm looking for, and Mr. Rainey will get what's coming to him."

Carmen shook her head and picked a Post-it Note up from the stack on her desk. "This scrap of paper, or any other piece of paper, isn't going to magically turn into a search warrant, sheriff." She shrugged. She crumpled it up and threw it into her now crackling fireplace. "I may not be an expert on the law, but I'm quite sure you'll need a reason if you want a warrant, and you don't have either,"

"His behavior doesn't match that of an innocent man," the sheriff said, backing down slightly. "It matches the behavior of a man who has killed his wife, and her new beau while he was at it,"

"Well, if that kind of behavior is good enough reason to take up a search warrant," she smirked, uncrossing her arms and placing them on her hips. "We could just as well chalk up O.J. Simpson as another prime suspect in this case, couldn't we?" She flashed a slightly sinister smile. "I'm giving you this notice, sir. If you don't drop your vendetta against Mort Rainey, I'll go to the press with it."

"What would that matter to me?" he asked uncomfortably. That expression on Carmen's face in lieu of her usual sweet, innocent smile was a bit unnerving.

"I know Tashmore Lake's economy relies on outsiders," she said knowingly. "Do you think anyone's going to be willing to come down here if they learn that even the sheriff, supposedly the most upstanding gentleman of the town, is close-mindedly persecuting someone who is quite obviously innocent?"

"Miss, I'm warning you, you're toeing the line," the sheriff said quietly. "We could take you in for this. It's the last thing I want to do, but the law says I could. This is blackmail."

"Is it?" Carmen asked, feigning innocence. "You calling it blackmail suggests that there really is something to hide." She strode past him and opened the door. "Good day, sir."

He stared for a moment, nodded, and left. Carmen shut the door behind him and raised her middle finger, sticking her tongue out immaturely. "That'll teach him," she said, smiling.

Meanwhile, the sheriff had his own agenda. After his encounter with Carmen, his pulse was racing. Talk about femme fatale. She looked harmless. Heck, he had even thought that of her, but the old saying held true. Absolute power corrupts...absolutely. And with those media connections, she had absolute power over Tashmore Lake. He drove up to Mort's house and opened the unlocked door without knocking. "Mort Rainey, I need to speak with you." He said straightly, not bothering with the nicety of skirting the subject as he had done with Carmen.

Mort, who was standing in front of the fireplace in deep thought, turned around and nodded. "Then, by all means, speak. I'm listening,"

"Your friend, Carmen, convinced me to drop the investigations on you," he said blankly. "But I'm warning you, that girl is far too foolhardy. I would talk to her before she gets too deeply involved and falls into some real trouble for your sake,"

"I won't let her get into trouble," Mort assured. "_I _won't get into trouble, so long as you don't give me a reason," he nodded calmly.

"Then I suppose that there's nothing else for us to discuss," the older man shrugged.

"I suppose you're right," Mort said threateningly. "So, to be blunt...get out of my house, sir."

"Make sure your _John Shooter _doesn't come too close to these parts anymore." The sheriff tipped his hat and left.

_There you see it. She's getting into trouble for you. It's happening even faster than I thought it would, too. We've opened up the old can of worms again- -_

"Sure, trust what the sheriff says," Mort snapped. "I'll talk to Carmen and tell her not to be _too _assertive . That's all this is about. She's too far ahead of the times for a small town like Tashmore Lake."

_You can deny it as long as you want to, and I'll let you, but eventually you'll see. Something's gonna give, Mort. Sooner or later, something's gonna happen to both of you, and you'll remember that I told you so._

The sun was setting, and Carmen wasn't in her bedroom. She wasn't in the kitchen, on her usual rug on the floor, or on the couch. She wasn't on her porch, in town, or in her car.

She was sitting on the branch of a tree, wearing Mort's shirt and sweater, and drinking a thermos of hot cocoa. She looked out over the scene and saw his house. She blew a kiss in its direction and sighed. This wasn't a typical, fast-paced, city romance. This was a slow, sweet, proper game of cat-and-mouse, just as every lovesick teenager would imagine it.

The last time she ever swooned over a guy like this was over Rob, but still, this was ten times better, and ten times worse. She was an adult, hence, she wasn't an eternal optimist. Once you've reached the highest point, where else do you have to go? You couldn't stay on top of the world forever.

And what did she know about Mort, anyway? It was possible that he was conning her. It was possible that he was just using her. He was so insistent about avoiding conversation regarding Amy's death. Whatever she may feel for him, she could almost guarantee that he was hiding something that would raise hell if it were out in the open. That's the only reason she could think of.

But whatever the circumstances, if he had done something, she'd cover for him until the end. She couldn't find a reason why, but she was just sure.

She sighed Mort's name out into the chilling night wind, and smiled like she was drunk for the first time. "You're perfect for me," she laughed. "You don't know just _how _perfect. I'd go through hell and high water for you, you know. I'd do it all for you without thinking twice..."

If only she knew how soon those vows would be tested.

* * *

Thanks to ast chapter's reviewers: Kurama13, Dawnie-7, and Sleeping Schizophrenic

Yes, I know that Shooter and Mort Rainey are indeed the same person but...well, let's just say that things are gonna get a little blurry as far as that's concerned.

And about the Sheriff's little cameo in this chapter...well, take my word for it that he won't be leaving Mort alone. Eventually. he'll drop in again.


	6. You've Only Seen Too Much

I like this chapter, hee. You might not, but I do.

Anyhow, let's commence with our usual torture: I don't own anything except Carmen, Rob, and..well, anything _original _that may come up between the beginning and the end of my story. Are we cool to go now? We _are_? Well, gee. Now i"m just downright giddy.

* * *

Carmen had fallen asleep on the large chair on her front porch after having sat down for quite a while staring at the stars. Now she had finally given her mind a rest, her head lolling of toward the left armrest. Her face was the most peaceful it had probably ever been. Suddenly, her eyes fluttered and she was whimpering loudly and writhing, as a horrible dream kicked in.

* * *

She was standing in front of Mort's house, but it seemed that no one was there except for a man in the doorway. He was old, with obviously graying hair hidden under a wide-brimmed black hat. He was dressed in very plain, worn clothes. The man seemed nothing to be intimidated by physically, but he exuded an odd, frightening aura. He sauntered menacingly towards Carmen

"John Shooter," he said, gesturing carelessly towards himself. She nodded mutely, barely able to breathe. "Who are you?" he asked in a Southern drawl. Carmen opened her mouth to answer but couldn't manage to force anything out except for a few unintelligible garbles. Suddenly, Shooter broke into a run, grabbed her by the throat and pinned her against a tree. She sputtered for breath, struggling in a futile attempt to push him away.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she coughed, snapping her teeth, trying to make him let go. "Get off- -"

"I asked you a question, girl, now you'd better answer me if you come near my house, else I'll take good care o' you." he growled, "Who are you?"

"Carmen...Allen," she replied. Shooter stepped back and raised his eyebrows. A crooked grin crossed his face as he dusted his hands in satisfaction. "Where's Mort?" she asked shakily, rubbing her throat with a wince.

"You mean Mr. Rainey," he droned knowingly. "He don't live here no more. I suppose you got some questions 'bout him? That ain't surprisin',"

"No," she snapped defensively, trying to sidestep away from the man in front of her. "I ain't...I _don't _have any questions. Everyone may not know he's innocent, but _I _do." She had never used the word '_ain't_" out loud in her life. No one she had ever known used the word _'ain't'. _

"You're awful defensive for summat who thinks he's innocent," Shooter said, taking a short step closer to her. She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "Can't say I blame you. You got reason to be iffy in your situation."

"Where is he?" she asked again, ducking under his arm and running past him. He whirled around and stared at her skeptically.

"He don't live here no more, like I told you." he shrugged simply. "But I know that don't answer none of your questions. It'd be summat more helpful if you took a look around here for yourself." He gestured around the edge of the house, towards the back. "A _real _look."

"I don't need to look for anything," she growled back ferociously.

"The man was shittin' you, Miss Allen," he said, advancing on her again. "Been shittin' you all along, and gonna keep shittin' you until _the_ end. He ain't what he tells you, just like you ain't what you tell him. You ain't what you tell yourself."

"What do you know about me anyway? You don't even know who the hell I am," she said, clenching her fists at her sides.

"Does anyone?" Shooter snapped back. Carmen's eyes widened, like a doe facing down an 18-wheeler. "You ain't never been nobody. You been hidin' behind a made-up name and your pretty face, long as you can remember. You ain't nobody. You don't know who you are, girl,"

"Shut up!" she yelled, clenching her eyes shut. "You think you're so smart, go ahead n' tell me who I am," she snapped back. Suddenly, her eyes went wide and she jumped back, clapping her hand over her mouth. _That wasn't my voice..._

* * *

Carmen bolted awake, flailing wildly and landing flat on her back on the floor of her porch. She panted loudly and wrapped her arms around herself. One hand went up to her neck and felt the sore spots where, in the dream, Shooter had tried to strangle her. The soft tissue had already started to bruise there, no doubt, but wasn't harmed as badly as Carmen's emotional state.

"I'm freaking out," she laughed weakly. "I'm paranoid."

_I'm going bonkers, _she thought, _I'm just trying to think of a reason to chicken out, so I'm nitpicking until...until I find a reason to be scared of Mort. _

"Oh, god," she muttered to herself. A realization hit her. The sheriff, this dream..._What if I'm jumping off a cliff with both feet here? _

She looked out into the woods, deep in thought. It must have been nearly midnight. People didn't think clearly at midnight.

_But I do, _she thought, _this is the only time when I **can **think...Maybe I ought to..._

She ran inside, grabbed her keys off of the kitchen table and started her car. Shaking the entire way, she drove up to Mort's cabin. But, instead of knocking on the door, she stopped the car and stood in the spot where she had stood in her dream.

"Take a _real_ look," Shooter had said. Carmen nodded surely and tiptoed towards the edge of the house. She had never looked around what was outside the back door before. In the dark, she tripped once or twice around the unfamiliar surroundings. Still, there was enough light bleeding through the foliage to see what was quite obviously there.

A dissolute greenhouse of gardening supplies that obviously hadn't been used for quite a while, and small patch of corn stalks? _This _was what she had come here for?

"Corn?" Carmen muttered skeptically. "Corn doesn't grow right in the soil up here. It's practically ground-up rocks. How..." she stopped, pushing a bit of windswept hair behind her ear. She stared a bit more. That patch was the only part that had been dug up and cultivated. If Mort had gone to the trouble of fixing one section, why not do it all?

_Gut feeling_, she thought suddenly. When she had a gut feeling, it would usually mean only one thing. Something was wrong. She had gotten a gut feeling at the beginning of every failed relationship, but had tried to ignore it. She had thought this time was different...but her gut feelings didn't lie to her. Maybe it was Mort, maybe it was her, or maybe putting them together was a lethal combination. This just wasn't normal at all.

But she had sworn. She had _sworn _that for Morton Rainey, she'd go through hell and high water, hadn't she? She needed to know. If she was going to go down with him, wherever he was headed, she had to know what she'd be falling to. She looked around wildly. A shovel was resting against the door. She scooted toward it and grabbed it.

Maybe he'd kill her if she ruined the plants, but she honestly didn't care. This may as well be life or death. She started digging, trying hard not to make a whole lot of noise. Even in the cold night air, she was sweating. It only took about half an hour to get down a foot, and after that, she had to swallow painfully to hold down a shriek, and a bout of nausea.

It was still covered in a layer of earth, but Carmen recognized what it was. A decapitated body of a woman lay in the ground. It had rotted away so badly that the identity couldn't be determined right away, but somewhere close to her angrily churning stomach, Carmen knew.

"Amy," she muttered, stepping back. She couldn't breathe. She dropped down on her knees, right in the dirt and ran her dirty hands through her hair. _What does this mean? _she asked herself.

Whether it was to cover up the scene, or to just get that horrid spectacle out of her sight, she threw the soil back over the hole. She laid the mere two cornstalks she had uprooted over where the gaping cavity had been, and then ran back to her car.

She didn't realize that she was crying the whole way back home. She ran back inside her own house and stared at herself in the full-length mirror. She was filthy, covered in dirt, and she was still wearing Mort's shirt and sweater. In frustration, she took both of them off and threw them across the room, then threw herself onto the couch, sobbing into her hands. She couldn't make heads or tails of what she had just seen, and really didn't want to.

It was growing harder and harder to believe that the people in town weren't right about Mort, and that his hands were completely clean here. She looked at her own hands, filthy as Satan. Ironic.

* * *

The next morning, Mort woke up and decided to take a stroll around, seeing as it was still fairly early, so the sun wasn't up too high. The moment he stepped out the back door, he noticed that something wasn't quite right, something was out of place. A quick examination determined that _someone _had been snooping around the area of the cornstalks. He didn't know why, but a feeling of panic hit him like a bucket of cold water. For the life of him, he couldn't determine why he felt so scared all of a sudden. He wasn't hiding anything...

He ran over and picked up the two uprooted pieces of plant that were strewn over the ground. As he crouched over that spot, he also noticed that the soil was quite bit looser...more panic set in...

He hurried inside and picked up the phone. He dialed Carmen's number, hoping she'd be awake. It was nearly seven in the morning. She never slept in so late. He was relieved when her voice, though very sleepy and hoarse, answered.

"Hello?"

"Carmen, listen," he panted, trying to regain his composure. "Someone must've been around here last night and dug up my backyard,"

Pause... "You sure it wasn't a stray dog?" she asked unconcernedly. "There must be some around here."

"A _dog _doesn't have any reason to be searching through my private property," Mort said, his voice getting lower and lower, as thought someone might be listening to what he was saying. "But I know some people who do,"

"Quit it," Carmen sighed tensely into the receiver. "If you ask me, I think you're getting a little bit paranoid. It's not good for you to be cooped up alone all the time,"

"Someone's been looking for something," Mort muttered.

"Unless you've got something to hide," she began, trying to keep a flat tone, "You shouldn't have to worry, right? Besides, the sheriff already told me that he'd drop this little thing he's got against you, and I don't think he's stupid enough to try and pull one over on me."

"You're right," he said, shaking off his concern. "You're right about the stray dog thing. Maybe it was a wolf or something." But he stopped. "No, no, you're not right. Nothing about this situation is right. There was _someone _up here."

"Fine, if you say so," Carmen whispered uncomfortably. "If that's how you see it, then I have no explanation, and certainly no way to change your mind."

"Maybe if I could just come over and tell you about this in person- -"

"Not today," she replied hastily. "I've got a whole heap of work I've got to take care of by the next issue."

"Fine," he said, "But I need to tell you about this dream I had. It was Shooter. He came back and threatened me...well, not me directly. He threatened you. He said he was going to do to you what he did to Amy." Carmen gasped and was close to saying something, but he shushed her. "Listen, I swore, even in my dream, that I wouldn't let that happen to you, all right? Besides, he's not ever _really _coming back. I guess I'm just nervous or something..." He didn't mention anything about speaking to Carmen, or speaking to himself, in that very same dream. If he gave away too much too quickly, she'd probably start suspecting him too. "Sorry to scare you," he muttered. "It just kinda seemed real. You know, those dreams where you just hear something and you gotta follow through on it?"

"No!" she snapped back shrilly. "I mean, no, I don't know what you're talking about. Personally, I don't believe in that phony, 'my dreams tell the future' mumbo jumbo."

"Yeah, it's pretty damn stupid," Mort laughed. "Listen, you sound sleepy still, so sorry to wake you. I'll talk to you later."

"Wait!" Carmen said before he could hang up. "Why are you so worried about someone digging around in your garden?" _Please let him have no reason, _she thought, _please don't let him tell me he knows what's under there._

"It's just the principle of the thing," he sighed, "People here are crazy. That story, the one Shooter said I stole..."

"Yeah, what about it?" Carmen said, awaiting the end of the sentence with bated breath. She was tensing horribly and couldn't be thankful enough that Mort couldn't see her reaction.

"You can only see that piece of the garden from one window in the house," he muttered, unsure whether or not he should keep talking, not knowing how Carmen would think of it. "_That's _the secret window. _Amy's _secret window."

"Oh," she replied, nearly in a whimper. "I see. Well, I've got to go. Bye..." She hung up, and resumed her former state of horrible posture on the couch. _He doesn't know what's under there, _she nodded to herself, _he just think someone broke onto his property. He doesn't know that his wife..._

The wave of nausea hit her again, but not for the same reason as when she had come across the dead body. Now, for the first time in her life as far as she remembered it, she felt inadequate. He still referred to Amy by her first name, or 'my wife.' Even in her death, they shared something that she just couldn't compete with...But she sure as hell would try. That wouldn't be a problem. Right now, there were bigger fish to fry.

She hadn't told Mort about her dream, because it would practically be screaming. "Look at me! Look at me! I dug up your backyard and made you look like a paranoid freak!" But she had listened quite closely to the dream that _he _had described. Shooter had paid them both a visit, had he? She had to know what this man wanted from both of them. She needed to know this man's every move, and to do that, she'd need some help.

She picked up the phone and dialed quickly. She had to do this fast before she lost her nerve and gave up altogether.

"Hello, Rob?" she said. "Get your butt over here, and bring your computer. I got a case for us to crack open."

"Be right over," he yawned without asking any questions. He just hung up.

Sometimes, Carmen was glad she kept this guy around. He sure was useful when it came to needing housecalls.

* * *

Mort was still a nervous wreck. He was a nervous train wreck. If there had ever been a collision of a nervous freight train and a nervous eighteen-wheeler, it would be him. He had to see Carmen. He hadn't talked to her all day, and with every passing minute, he envisioned another way that Shooter might try to mutilate her if he wasn't looking. Without a second thought, he drove over to Carmen's house.

When he got there, he was surprised to see not only convertible in the driveway, but also a silver BMW. A man with sandy brown hair, blue eyes, and very prominent features stepped out.

"Afternoon," the man nodded. "I'm Rob. You must be Mort,"

"Yeah, _Rob_, I've heard of you." he nodded suspiciously. So this was Rob. This was the guy that Carmen would, ' never in a million years be attracted to.' He seemed good looking enough. Plus, he had a nice car, and most likely a very high-profile job...he seemed quite the 'Mr. Perfect.'

Carmen opened the door. "Rob, you did bring your- -Mort?" she said, turning her head and noticing he was there.

"Yeah, I showed up on a lark," he said blankly. He glanced over at Rob. "Didn't know you were _doing _anything."

"Rob, just go inside and hook your computer up, all right?" Carmen snapped, waving her hand over her shoulder spastically. He knew better than to do other than what she said when she moved like that, so he walked past her and into the house, shutting the screen behind him. Carmen stepped down her porch steps and stood in front of Mort.

"You don't have time to see me when someone breaks into my fucking yard," he began quietly, "But you can afford to have him over?"

"I told you, I have a lot of work to do," she said calmly, her hands relaxed at her sides. "You know that he and I work together."

"_Do I?_" he snapped back. "For all I know, you could be bullshitting me with all this."

"Did we not just establish what was going on yesterday?" Carmen snapped. "Rob is here because we've got work to do. This is no different."

"This is _totally _different! That was yesterday, and _this _is today!," Mort said, spreading his arms out wildly. Carmen flinched but didn't step back as he began his tirade. "When I heard his voice on the phone before, it was stupid of me to get jealous. But now, I have a goddamn right to get jealous when there's another guy at your house who isn't me- -"

"So that's what this is all about," she scoffed, shaking her head. "You're jealous for _no fucking reason_. You think I'm lying to you? Because if that's what you think I'm like- -"

"No!" he said quickly, placing his hands on her shoulders. "I didn't mean for it to sound like that, all right?"

"Sure you didn't," Carmen said, crossing her arms. "You _meant _for it to sound like something else, so you could cover up the truth. You don't trust me."

"I don't really trust _anyone_," he admitted, "But you're the only person I even come _close _to trusting. I'm sorry,"

"I can't always forgive you, you know," she said, shifting her weight.

"Maybe," he said, kissing her quickly, "But this time you can. I know you can't help it." Carmen couldn't help smiling. "I'll let you get to work with this Rob guy," he said, nodding behind her. She looked over her shoulder and saw Rob watching through the screen door. He and Mort regarded each other with a nod. Mort kissed her on the cheek again and left.

Once he had gotten home, he sat on his couch and put his feet up on the table.

"Fishy, ain't it, coming across that _friend _o' hers?" came a rising voice in his head. He turned towards the door and saw Shooter standing outside. "And you thought she was different from that _Amy_."

"She is," Mort said, looking away. "I told you all this already. They're nothing alike."

"So which one do you choose?" Shooter asked with a ominous smile.

"You're jacked up, you know that?" Mort said, shading his eyes with his hand. "Amy's _dead_. You of all people would do well to remember that."

"You still love her better." Shooter hissed. "If you had a choice between the two of them- -"

"SHUT UP!" Mort roared, hurling an empty bottle of Jack Daniels blindly in the direction of the door. The sugarcoated tone in Shooter's voice subsided.

"You're cracked, Mister Rainey," he said simply. "What kinda lies are you tryin' to hide?"

* * *

Uh oh, Mort sees Shooter again. That can't be very good. And Carmen saw something she really wasn't supposed to see. Tsk tsk. She's getting a little bit nosy. Maybe she needs to be taught a lesson...?

Thanks to my reviewers from last chappie:

**lordoftheringsfanficreader: **your name is long...hee. Just kidding! thanks for reviewing! Keep reading, mmmkay?

**Dawnie-7: **Yeah, you've got a right to start getting a wee bit scared right now. Looks like Shooter's gone Freddy Krueger on us...

**over-dramatic-05: **Harhar, the sheriff does seem to be getting in the way, doesn't he? He's not done raising hell for everyone yet...He'll be the cause of some major problems. (Yes, that's sort of a hint)

**Kurama13: **Your reviews always tell me to "update soon" makes me rush, haha. My beta can't seem to keep up with how fast I want to update, so she misses a lot of typos. Hee.

**_PS: _**I just wanna know...What's your honest opinion of Carmen? Like, what impression do you get from her? Bitchy? Maybe a little bit conniving? Or kinda just sweet but street smart? A lot of people who read this story (apart from people on the site) have lots of different opinions of her.


	7. Like Monkeys and Mice?

**Disclaimer....Ack, see what I've said before. You've heard it.**

**Okay, now we're starting right from where the last chapter left off, so read the last bits again if you need a little bit of refreshing. Kay? Can ya dig it? Good.**

* * *

"He always is so suspicious of everything," Carmen sighed, stepping into her house after Mort had left. Rob chuckled quietly. "I mean it," Carmen said, taking a seat. "I don't really think he knows how to relax,"

"Neither do you, Carmen," Rob laughed, shaking his head. "Neither do you."

Carmen and Rob were sitting on opposite sides of her coffee table, having just gotten their laptops set up. Rob kept looking up from the keyboard towards Carmen. Carmen had tried not to pay attention. But was soon getting too disturbed by it.

"Do I have anything in my teeth?" she laughed after about five minutes of this same odd behavior from Rob. He shook his head hurriedly, clearing his throat with a very uncomfortable, downcast gaze. Carmen cocked her head to the side analytically. "Then why do you keep looking like me like I've got week-old mud masque on my face?"

"I've been meaning to ask you about something for a really long time now and I guess...I don't know. It's bugging me a little/" he shrugged. Carmen looked at him in genuine concern. For once, he wasn't trying to be stupid, or crack a joke.

"Rob, cut the crap before I lose it. You're freaky when you're serious," she said, leaning back. "What's going on?"

"What would you have said if I asked you to marry me when we were together?" he said very quickly, as though it were a gust of air that blew right past. "I've just been wondering that for a long time, all right? I mean, I thought we were going in that direction, but you obviously didn't." Carmen eyed him oddly.

"Rob," she said carefully. "I'm hoping you didn't forget what I told you back then. We went through with the 'just friends' arrangement for a reason. I still would've said no to you. It just wasn't supposed to be that kind of relationship, I guess,"

"I thought that's what you'd say if I asked you," he nodded, jutting out his jaw as he often did when he was wound up. "I mean, what other response could you have had, right? You wouldn't just hop off and get married to a guy you didn't give a crap about. I mean, it's all kinda pointless if you have no feelings." Carmen narrowed her eyes.

"I have _no feelings? _What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she snapped. "What gives you _any _right to say that I don't have any feelings?"

"I was in love with you," he said heatedly, rubbing his hand irately over his forehead. "But you didn't really give a damn. It was just a one-sided fling for you. You had to play the game and win me over, but then you didn't see any point in dragging it out. It was easy enough for you to call it quits."

"I'm not made of stone, Rob," she said calmly. "I just had different priorities back then."

"You're not meant to be in real relationships," he said, cocking his head carelessly. "You're not in it for love anyway, are you?"

Carmen knocked the glass of water she had poured for him off of the table and halfway across the room, where it landed and shattered loudly. "You're being an ass, and you know it. Do NOT tell me what I am, or what I'm not. You know I don't like being challenged."

"I'm not challenging you," he said, "I'm just stating the facts."

"As I remember it, the agreement to just be friends was mutual," she pointed out. "_That _wasn't one-sided, was it? You told me I was doing the right thing, breaking it off, and that you would've done the same anyway, because we..." she paused tentatively. "What did you say? Oh, right! We 'both had better things ahead of us,'"

"Are you really that blind?" Rob said intensely, "I loved you! I wanted you to be happy! I did that because it's what _you_ wanted, not what I wanted."

"So the fact that you've been **patronizing** me all this time makes me heartless?" she snapped, "I have feelings, I really do. The reason I wouldn't have married you is because I wasn't ready to be part of something like that, and I bet that you weren't either."

"Sure," he replied sarcastically. "You know, I had a ring and everything."

"There are other girls in the world," Carmen interrupted, "and you're not dead, Rob."

"I tried that," he said. "And I'll find another girl someday. I'm over you, but not over what you did. That ring I had, it was only meant for you."

"Sell it, then," she said.

"Oh, I did," he said, "The one good thing about you refusing is the fact that I had a down payment for my car. But, let's move on. You don't really like that guy, Mort, do you?"

"I thought we were moving on," Carmen snapped.

"We are," Rob shrugged. "Earlier, we were talking about me. Now we're talking about him." He said the last word rather distastefully. "You can't really like him. This isn't how you act. I mean, you're too fanatical over him, and we know you're not like that. You're acting like a teenager, and I gotta say, it doesn't make sense."

"Maybe that's what love's supposed to be," she shrugged, looking rather distant and dreamy, which she didn't do often. "Maybe it's not supposed to make much sense. It's just supposed to _be_."

"It's _never _going to work out with that guy," Rob insisted. "He may be pretty well-known, I'll give him that, but it doesn't change the fact that he's a small-town writer, and you're...you're just larger than life."

"I'm not larger than life," she replied, crossing her arms. "I'm just me."

"Carmen," he said, gesturing with his hands as though he was speaking to a little child. "Look at it this way. You're a...monkey. And he's a mouse. This is like dating outside your species. It's like dating an alien from outer space, and that's definitely not going to work."

"You don't get it at _all_," she snapped back, "This is real. This isn't just like the fling you and I had, Rob. This is different,"

"You mean it's worth more than our _fling_," he said resentfully. "Whatever you've got with him is worth more than what you ever could have had with me. But you know that I'm still willing to answer to your every beck and call, don't you? You know that I'm still practically your loyal servant, and you're using me."

"No, _you're_ using _me_!" Carmen said determinedly. "Seven years, you stand by and watch me fail at relationship after relationship without ever trying to warn me or stop me, and now that I have something that just _might _be real, you're jealous! You're jealous, and you go trying to ruin it! You think that as long as I'm single, it makes it look less pitiful that you're still desperately clinging on to something that never should have happened!"

"You should've given me a goddamn chance!" Rob yelled. "There, I said it! I'm still hung up on you, and I still think you should've given it a try!"

Carmen stared at him, shaking her head incredulously. She hadn't even _thought _about that amount of time where they had been together, and now he was saying that he was still _hung up on her? _She gestured towards the door. "You've gotta get out, right now before you say anything else to rival that. I really can't deal with this on top of everything else ," she sighed.

"Carmen, no," he said. "Look, that last thing, I was just angry and I needed something to say."

"Yeah, okay," she replied quietly. "I believe you, all right? I just need you to leave.

I don't really want to be around you when you're thinking like this. Can you get that?"

Rob shrugged dejectedly, rounded up all of his things, and left without another word. Carmen slumped onto the couch and stared up at the ceiling.

_He said that it would never work, _she thought, _but he's wrong. This is possibly the only thing I've ever done that **can **work. This is the only thing that's ever been real. Everything I ever did up until now was a mistake. But at least those mistakes lead me here..._

She reached under the couch and pulled out a small box of photographs. The envelope on the top of the pile held some pictures she and Mort had taken while sitting in the house with nothing to do. It had taken a while to convince him to be in the pictures, but he eventually gave in. Most of them were clipped shots of their chins, or the tops of their heads as they tried to fit into the same shot while holding the camera out in front of them.

_My god, _she laughed, _I really am acting like a teenager. It's about time, too. I was too stuffy when I really was one. Every girl needs to let loose once in a while._

That last thought gave her an idea. She went into her closet and peered around.

It was a dusty, poor excuse for a closet. It was filled with old jackets that she never wore but couldn't part with, mothballs, and cardboard boxes. One of the boxes held her old highschool yearbooks.

She had been right. She _was _stuffy as a teenager. She never smiled in any of her pictures, never showed up in the candids from their dances, and especially didn't show her face in the group shots taken at rallies. It just wasn't her style.

Her senior yearbook was the one that she looked at most intently. She saw the quote she had put in by her name.

_As much as it hurt, no one looks back and regrets having a heart._

This only affirmed what she had felt all along. Whatever was bound to happen from that point on, it would all be worth it.

She knew quite well that things could probably only go downhill from there, but it really made no difference. She'd been on an uphill slope up until then, and needed the break from running. She was just tired of forcing life to go a certain way. For once, she just wanted to let everything fall into place.

Brushing off the work she had planned to do, she pulled the blanket up over her and went to sleep.

* * *

Aww...that was almost "barfy" to write. So Carmen and Rob used to be together, and they had a little "lovers' spat" for old times sake? tsk tsk

And thanks for your reviews on the last chapter. I just needed a little bit of a nudge in building up Carmen's character. I'm planning out the ending. **So, if there's anything you want to see happen in future chapters, TELL ME before I have my plotline all thought up and established!**

**over-dramatic-05: **phew! I'm glad that Rob isn't coming off as the next Ted. shudder. Oh yeah, and...actually the whole "Pet Sematary" idea popped into my head at the earlier stages of writing this, but I have something else planned. Believe me, something really is going to _come out _of that corn eventually. And, finally, don't we all have such ill-will towards the sheriff...haha.

**Dawnie-7: **Ah, Mort's got a tighter on hold on Carmen than anyone realizes. She's just too _independent _to admit it still. Just wait for it. _Maybe it'll all turn out..._

**Kurama-13: **A person of few words, eh? Well, I still appreciate your reviews! Keep reading!

**lordoftheringsfanficreader: **Carmen's _slightly _nosy? Hah. She gets worse.

Adios for now! **Remember, if you wanna see something happen, just drop a review and I'll think about it.**


	8. Bartlett, Bites, and Monopoly?

**Disclaimer: **Well, you know the drill. I'm sorry if you have a problem with it, but _i _have a problem being redundant. Look back at other chapters if you need a refresher on this one.

* * *

Three weeks had passed since Rob and Carmen's very unpleasant rendezvous. Carmen had gone to see Mort every day, and felt infinitely grateful for the reassurance it gave her. All that time spent with him, just talking over coffee or watching TV, had given her the peace of mind to dispel the nagging remnant of Rob's voice, telling her she was making a mistake.

It was about 5 o'clock in the morning when Carmen's cell phone rang loudly while she was in the shower. She heard it, even over the sound of the water, and rushed over to answer.

"Talk to me," she said casually.

"You sure you want me to talk?" Rob asked carefully. "I mean, I'm giving you this one opportunity to scream your damn brains out at me, Carmen. You know you wanna take it."

"I'm not gonna yell," Carmen said calmly. "I'm just going to tell you that you were _really _wrong, and having you lecture me didn't change a thing,"

"Yeah, I figured that much," Rob laughed weakly. "Look, Carmen, I'm sorry about all that stuff that I said before, okay? I'm finally admitting it, and I know that's **exactly **what you want me to do. I was being- -"

"Selfish, and juvenile, I know," Carmen said succinctly, "But since you're a good lackey, I guess it would be all right to forgive you this time."

The two of them laughed quickly, then cleared their throats at the exact same time.

"We're practically twins now anyway," Rob chuckled, "We think too much alike. I mean, if we were still together, I'd never be able to get away with anything, and I can't imagine how badly that would suck."

"Obviously," Carmen replied, "You can't get one past me now, so how would expect to be able to if I was around you 24/7?"

"That's why I don't try," Rob laughed unceremoniously. Carmen felt extremely relieved with the knowledge that Rob had finally let it all go.

"So you just called at five in the morning to tell me that I'm a major dominatrix?" Carmen laughed. "Or was the apology already prearranged?"

"Ah, this was all kind of spur of the moment," Rob said calmly, "And no, I'm not drunk, since I know that's what you'll automatically assume."

"Never!" Carmen laughed. "I know you well enough to know that you're too much of a pretty boy to waste your time on a six-pack. Still, you have to have to reason for calling me when you know that this is wake-up-and-shower time."

"Nothing, nothing," Rob said, clearing his throat again.

_He really ought to have something done for that cough_, Carmen laughed to herself.

"Just read the newspaper today, Carmen," he said vaguely, "And read it _well_,"

"Why, are you going to be testing me on it?" she sighed sarcastically. "I don't do guessing games, Rob. I didn't care much for ancient Egypt in junior high, and I sure as hell don't care for your cryptic bullshit."

"Just read it," he insisted. "It has something to do with...someone important to you. Swear you'll read it? Swear you won't just look at the picture and throw the paper into the fireplace?"

"Sure, whatever," Carmen said dismissively.

"It'll interest you, I swear," he said solemnly. "I've got to get ready for work, Carmen."

"Atta boy!" she laughed. "Go bitch at those lazy-asses for me."

"Bye," he said simply, then he hung up.

"Oh, _brother_," Carmen said, rolling her eyes and finally starting to get dressed. "He knows I don't like reading newspapers. They smell."

She went downstairs and started pouring herself a bowl of Cookie Crisp for breakfast, pushing away any thoughts of even looking at the newspaper that they still bothered to drop on her doorstep. Anything worth knowing would be on TV anyway, so why waste the brain cells?

But the more she sat and tried to forget about it, the more curious she got. Maybe there really was something worth looking at in the newspaper. She grabbed a sweatshirt she had thrown onto the couch and pulled it over her head quickly, then opened the front door. The newspaper, as usual, was outside the porch door. Carmen scurried over to pick it up, and brought it back inside.

The first thing she saw when she looked at the front page of the Tashmore Independent was a photograph of a man she recognized- -Daniel Bartlett from the diner.

The next thing that caught her eye was the headlines in large bold letters:

**Breaking News: Tashmore Resident Murdered- Writer Possible Killer?**

Carmen dropped the paper abruptly on the floor as if she had been burned and gaped straight at it. She wouldn't have tried to read more if she hadn't been drawn to one sentence at the bottom of the page.

"...there are no suspects at the time, but the County Sheriff has been heard suggesting that the murderer in question could be the same person responsible for at least four murders over a year ago..."

Like clockwork, Carmen's phone rang, and she picked it up hesitantly. "Hello?" she said in a rather timid voice, seeing as she would rather not be taking phone calls at the moment.

"Hello, miss," the sheriff said politely without the knowledge that Carmen was positively cringing at the sound of his voice. "I suppose you're privy to the news today?"

"Yes, I read today's paper already, if that's what you mean," she said, her breath starting to catch in her throat as she spoke. "And I know that's what you're calling about so there's no need to dance around it. I really don't like being treated as though I wouldn't understand, just for the record."

"I didn't intend it to seem that way. I just thought I'd tell you beforehand that I intend to call Mort on this one," he said straightly. "I'm only trying to solve this crime, it's not a personal vendetta or anything."

"Yeah, I'm _sure_," Carmen muttered.

"Excuse me?" the sheriff asked. Carmen just cleared her throat without bothering to repeat her previous statement.

"You'll be going to visit Mort _today_, then," Carmen said shrewdly.

"Yes, that's how it'll be," the sheriff said in agreement. "I've gotta get answers, and it's just as easy to tell a lie over the phone. When you're on the phone, you don't need to look a man in the eye. I need to talk to the man face-to-face,"

"Well, good," she said confidently. "Then you can speak to us both. He spent the night here last night."

"Oh, I see," the sheriff muttered, clearing his throat. "I'll be by at around seven o'clock,"

"All right," Carmen said. "We'll be here." Then, without putting the receiver down, she held down the button on the phone base, then started dialing Mort's number.

"Yeah?" he said groggily, picking up the phone.

"You need to hurry up and get your ass over here," she panted, "Don't get dressed, just drive, all right? I'll explain everything once you're here." Then, she hung up right away. She started throwing blankets over the couch-bed, shaking horribly the whole time.

"What the hell have I gotten into?" she said out loud, running her hands through her hair. Fortunately, she didn't have time to think of an answer when Mort walked through the door- -Carmen had given him her extra key.

"You're a little wound-up, considering it's only five thirty in the morning." He said, sitting down on the couch-bed in front of her.

"You need to see this," Carmen said, picking the newspaper up with two fingers at though it were a dirty sock. She handed it to Mort and sighed, "He was killed."

"And who is _he_?" Mort asked.

"Daniel Bartlett," she said simply, "The guy from the diner who told me you were...well...crazy."

"It says here that he didn't exactly die a very fun death," Mort said with a slight grimace, "He was found with a screwdriver through his head, and a Pall Mall cigarette burned into his throat,"

"You smoke once in a while, don't you?" Carmen said offhandedly, her gaze shifting downwards.

"Not Pall Malls," Mort said immediately. "Are you trying to say something, Carmen? If you are, I'm really not following."

"The sheriff wants to talk to you," she said, her eyebrows furrowing. "He called me, and told me he wanted to see you at seven o'clock."

"Then what did you tell me to come here for?" Mort said in a pained voice, getting up to leave. "I should be at home, trying to think of an airtight excuse, aside from the fact that I was sleeping like a log!"

"Don't go anywhere!" Carmen snapped. "I didn't know what else to say to the sheriff, and I'm sorry, but I told him- -"

"You told him what?" Mort asked carefully.

"I told him that you spent the night here," she said, "I wasn't really thinking straight, and I got scared that he was going to try to get you arrested, since no one saw where you were- -"

"What difference does it make where I slept?" Mort said quickly, "All that matters is that I was _supposedly _sleeping, and you don't know what I did while you were asleep."

"Don't you get it?" Carmen said, grabbing his hand and pulling him back so they were both sitting down. Apparently, she had pulled him a little harder since she had intended to, because he had bounced slightly on the couch cushion when he landed. Carmen laughed slightly with a muffled apology, then continued talking. "I told the sheriff you _spent the night_. I didn't say we were _sleeping_. Knowing him, he'll probably assume we...well, that we didn't get any sleep."

Mort looked at Carmen in a mixture of shock, confusion, and admiration. "You didn't have to lie for me, you know," he said, holding one of her hands with both of his. "I mean, you could get into a hell of a lot of trouble for lying like this."

"I don't mind," Carmen smiled weakly. "I mean, that's what girlfriends are for, right? Covering up for their boyfriends shit?" The two of them laughed quietly.

"Well, I wouldn't know about what a girl _should _do," Mort said, "Unless that includes going off with other guys,"

"Newsflash," Carmen said, kissing him on the cheek. "I'm not going off with other guys. Stop dwelling on it. Now, we have to be able to convince the sheriff when he gets here, because I am personally very tired of him interrogating us," she smiled impishly. "I need you to bite me."

"What?" Mort said in confusion. "That's a little off topic."

"Come on, we're gonna have to improvise on the _evidential _part if he asks to prove that you were here _all_ night," Carmen snapped. Mort raised an eyebrow at her, which caused her to groan in aggravation. "Oh, come _on, _Mort! I never suggested it would be any _fun! _I'm not exactly getting off on this situation either, I just need you to bite me!"

"Not exactly the right atmosphere for that, but fine," Mort said, shrugging, He leaned forward and bit Carmen gently on the neck.

"Remember, it has to leave a mark," Carmen said. She knew she should fine this romantic, in a kinky sort of way, but right now it was just another call for stress. She yelped when Mort nibbled too hard. "I didn't say to plant a Count Dracula on me!"

"I'm sorry!" Mort said, jumping back. "I don't perform well under pressure, all right?"

Carmen rubbed her neck and laughed. "Well, that's definitely gonna be noticeable." She held her hand up and showed Mort a very tiny drop of blood. "It should do fine."

"Just never _order _me to bite you again," Mort said, shaking his head.

"Oh, trust me, I won't," Carmen said shortly. "God, this had better be the last time the sheriff is going to show up here."

"Have I ever told you that you are _completely _evil?" He laughed. "You shouldn't be lying to the police like this. That's withholding information- -"

"There's nothing to withhold!" Carmen said adamantly. "You didn't _do _anything, and there's no proof _anywhere _that suggests you did. These people are stupid, small-minded- -"

Mort put his hand gently over her mouth and clucked his tongue. "It's nothing, all right? You take this stuff more personally than I do."

"Because it's goddamn wrong, Mort!" Carmen snapped, "You can't let these people walk all over you like this! What are you scared they'll dig up?" She froze...they could _dig up_ a lot if they knew where to look. She stood and shook her head softly, trying to clear her mind. "He's gonna be here an minute. I'd better shut up."

"Yeah," Mort said rather uncomfortably. He had no idea what she was so upset about, so he decided to leave it alone. The two sat in silence until, at seven-thirty on the dot, the doorbell rang. Carmen got up to answer the door and found the sheriff standing there.

"Mornin'," he nodded. Carmen nodded back silently, waving him inside. He seemed surprised to see Mort inside as well. "Mr. Rainey."

"I told you he was here, didn't I?" Carmen said matter-of-factly, "Maybe you'd do well to believe me when I tell you something,"

"I thought maybe you were just trying to stop me from coming," the sheriff said honestly. "To be frank, that's what I'd come to expect from you up until now,"

"I suppose my reputation as a member of the media to stretch the truth a bit gave you reason to feel that way," Carmen said, closing the door and crossing her arms. "But I honestly doubt that it gives you the right to think that I'm a liar."

"That's my girl," Mort muttered under his breath when the sheriff wasn't looking towards him.

_Good thing you picked one who knows how to lie like a pro. You should be **paying **her for this performance...or at least be getting it on camera_

"So, Mr. Rainey," the sheriff said, turning around, "You have no idea what might have happened to Daniel Bartlett,"

"No, not besides what I read in the papers," Mort said, shrugging. "I've never even seen the man in my life. At least, not having known his name."

"And how exactly did you manage to first lay eyes on the paper?" the sheriff asked shrewdly, Carmen crossed her fingers, hoping that Mort could come up with this on the spot.

"Well," Mort said, standing up, "It was around five thirty in the morning, and I was half asleep when I heard Carmen scream about someone getting killed in town- -She practically threw the paper in my face, she wanted me to read it so badly."

"And would you have a mental account of what you were doing at every hour of the night?" the sheriff asked almost mockingly. It seemed that somehow, he didn't believe that Carmen was taken enough with Mort to...have her way with him for an entire night.

"Oh, yeah," Mort said confidently. Making up stories, he was definitely in his element. "About six o'clock, Carmen and I went out for a walk around the lake. Seven, I went to drive her home. I got back home at around seven forty-five, and we were on the phone for around two hours. I took a ten minute shower, and then I called her back to make sure she was taping something for me because my cable's broken. She said she didn't have anymore blank tapes, and that I should just come over, so that's what I did."

"Right," The sheriff nodded. "And what, Miss Allen," he began, using the surname that she had been using lately to sign for packages, "What exactly did Mr. Rainey ask for you to tape?"

"The Rocky and Bulwinkle Marathon," she laughed without hesitation. It was, after all, what she had been watching at around ten o'clock.

"And afterwards?" he said persistently.

"Mort stayed over, and we ate some late dinner at around midnight, after the marathon," Carmen stated, waving towards the leftovers on the table and feeling very glad that she often ate enough for two.

"So, I suppose you two were eating for five straight hours?" he asked sardonically.

"If you _must _pry," Carmen said, narrowing her eyes, "Mort was teaching me how to play...a more adult version of Monopoly. You know that a game of Monopoly can run up to two hours."

"That's enough," the sheriff said uncomfortably. He could tell what Carmen was going to tell him next, and really didn't want to hear her describe everything in detail, as she had been doing. "I believe your alibi will do," he nodded towards Mort, leaving in quite a rush. Carmen shut the door behind him as he left and, with her back still to the door, sighed in quiet relief.

"That was _the _most believable lie I have _ever _heard- -and I've definitely heard quite a few. You are _amazing!_" Mort said, sweeping Carmen up into hug as soon as the sheriff's car pulled away.

_Amy never would've done something like this for you, would she_?

And for once, that nagging voice told Mort something that he actually liked hearing. This girl _was _different.

"Hopefully, he's off of our case for good," Carmen sighed, kissing Mort chastely.

"_Our _case?" Mort laughed. "My, you _are _taking this seriously, aren't you?"

"Protecting my man's honor," she laughed with lopsided grin. "Besides, that old fart needs to learn a little respect. Imagine! He thought I was _lying?_"

"Inconceivable! He thought you were telling a _lie?_" Mort stated with a laugh, gesticulating with his hand. Carmen swatted his wrist playfully.

"That's beside the point!" she said, crossing her arms again. "I am **the **biggest name in magazines, and he thinks he can pull one over on me? I bet he thinks I'm stupid."

"I wouldn't worry about that anymore," More said with a smile as he pulled Carmen closer again so her forehead was up against his. "You've pretty much proved that you're a heavyweight in the brains department."

"There's one thing I don't understand, though," Carmen said, pulling away and pacing around a bit. "Do you think it's possible that Shooter did this?"

"No!" Mort snapped adamantly, not knowing why he was so insistent. "Shooter's gone. He couldn't have gone back."

"He _could _be. We don't really know who the hell this guy is," she wheeled around and turned to look at Mort thoughtfully. "At least _I _don't know."

"I DON'T!" Mort said honestly. He _didn't _know about Shooter's identity...or refused to remember. Carmen looked away and put her hand on her forehead.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "That's just me. I need to question everything. You'd better believe it when I say that someday, I'm gonna find out who Shooter is."

"I believe you." Mort said frankly. The two shared a small smile, and that was the end of the subject.

"So," Mort said, trying to strike up a new conversation. "What's this about a _more adult _version of Monopoly?"

"Something I picked up from my time in the city," Carmen laughed. "You should _not _ask."

For at least that moment, things seemed to be just fine.

* * *

Well, the story's kind of starting to take shape. It's not a formless blob of words and snogging, right? Hah.Has anyone forgotten who Daniel Bartlett was? The semi-pervy guy from the diner a few chappies back? Okeeday

**blackcharityflint: **haha, don't worry. random ramblings are my specialty. I don't mind at all. I LOVE randomnees, harhar. BTW, which 'hard-to-fimd' Johnny Depp movies did you pick up? I wanan start a big collection myself, haha

**lordoftheringsfanficreader**: Ahhh, it's okay if you can't think of anything. I'll think of more things to mix into this story. Still plenty left...I think

**Kurama13: **Awwww, you don't fancy Rob? Well, maybe the poor guy's on his way to redeeming himself, eh?

**Dawnie-7: **glad to hear that the argument I staged between Carmen and Rob last chapter wasn't too outlandish. I mean, maybe people saw it coming. Only two peopel who've dated each other can fight like that.

**Adios! Til next time!**


	9. Frozen

Woo! Haha, I think I own something new. According to the repsonses to last chapter, no one really knew of "adult monopoly"...So i own it! harhar, ADULT MONOPOLY is MIIIINE!

Okay, the rant's over! On with the show...

* * *

The night was one like any other, except for that fact that a certain brown-eyed snoop-at-heart was anything but tucked safely into bed. She had set up her laptop and printer at her spot on the couch in front of the TV.

"Okay, I can _not _be scared of this. I've been putting this off long enough," Carmen said to herself, turning on her computer. "This Shooter guy isn't anything to be scared of. He's just a senior citizen. Yeah, he's a just an unstable old fart...erm...with a thing for killing people. All right, he's Freddy Krueger with a senior citizens discount, but all the more reason to open up this can of worms."

Curiosity had a way of always getting the better of Carmen, and this time was definitely no exception. This infamous John Shooter was making a mess of things that she had made a point of honing to perfection, and she was going to figure him out. Granted, some people couldn't be figure out for anything, but the least she could do was find some information she could use to make life miserable for him.

Being in the media meant not always playing by the rules. One of her bosses in the past had gotten her hooked onto the not-so-wonderful habit of snooping where she shouldn't stick her nose. This evening in particular, a full month after the murder of Daniel Bartlett, and five days of not seeing Mort because of a large rise in 'inspiration' for his new story, she had decided to go through with what she had wanted to do from the beginning.

Tonight, she was going to shed some light on the supposed mystery of this _John Shooter_. It didn't matter how late it was...though it was in fact very late, about eleven thirty. It didn't matter that it might make him a bit unhappy if she went and learned too much. She was going to crack this wide open, no matter how long it took, and no matter how much it might cost her.

Mort had told her that, among other things, he was from Mississippi, so that was the only place she had to start from. She did the first thing a researcher's instinct told them to nowadays...she googled it.

She found herself quite surprised that, after a few hours of perusing social security records and census results, she would find exactly what she needed.

_Shooter, John: Bandolin, Mississippi_

She clucked her tongue a few times and mentally patted herself on the back for her persistence. _I'm finally doing something right, _she thought, _let's just hope I can keep this up._

At least now she had a location to go with the name, and assurance that he was real. She sighed in relief. For a minute, she had believed that Mort was making it all up to hide something...

But, upon clicking on the name, doubts arose again with ten times more force with only one simple fact...

_died June 3, 1985_

"No, no, no," Carmen said out loud. "There's got to be some mistake here..." She checked back, only to find that there was only one John Shooter in those records, which was funny, since there was nothing particularly unique about his name. It was quite likely that she had even _known _someone named 'Shooter' at some point in her career. It _should _have had some duplicates in the system.

She followed through with her search, hunting warily for some kind of connection. Fraud, faked death, anything would make more sense than what she had. Anything...

With a lot of time and even more effort, she managed to dig up more about the town of Bandolin, Mississippi. It only had a population of six-hundred-twenty-nine in 1985, when John Shooter had lived there, and was the most successful agricultural town within a twenty-mile radius.

The town's only newspaper, the Gazette, had scans of its old articles, which Carmen began to scour thoroughly. She was going to leave no stone unturned in this, and that meant skimming over newspapers filled with obituaries, and stories about blue-ribbons winning pigs and squash.

Records showed that Shooter's farm had been a major provider of dairy products and corn in the late seventies, but was repossessed when he had failed to pay off a longstanding debt to one of the richer townsmen. The deed to the Shooter farm, in turn, was given to that man in lieu of the money owed to him. Shooter continued to work on that farm as an employee of its new owner until the day he died.

His death had been no accident either. One article noted that he had been run over by a tractor, but gave no details of the murder. It instead skipped to the fact that his wife, Arby, had committed suicide the very next day.

Quickly, Carmen did another search. Shooter's death had been documented in a few other newspapers out of town, and all of them had the same story. She skipped back to the Bandolin Gazette and went to the obituaries.

A small photograph by the name John Shooter confirmed what she had so sincerely doubted. That was the same man from her dream, the same man that Mort had so often described. The implications of this new discovery gave Carmen headaches just thinking about it.

Another article for the week's paper showed a picture of the man who had killed Shooter, or at least the prime, and only, suspect. Timothy Haley, the man who the city had granted ownership of the Shooter farm to, had apparently shot himself in attempted suicide.

He also had supposed hallucinations since the day of Shooter's death that caused him to somehow go insane and murder his entire family with whom he had been so happy, especially with the acquisition of the new property. He murdered them all, but would never divulge the spot where he had buried them...

Apparently, he had killed his wife, Amelia, a beauty-pageant worthy housewife with cornsilk blonde hair, and his three children: Kenneth, who had inherited his looks and darker hair and eyes, Thomas who had curly, silver-blonde hair, and Theodore, whom his mother adored because he looked just like her. Inconsequentially, his cat, Bump, was also found dead, impaled on tree limb.

This was too weird for Carmen. She printed what she had and turned off her computer, laying her sources out in front of her with a highlighter, carelessly slopping bright neon ink over things that remained constant in each story. Soon, all of the printouts were nearly covered in bright ink, and Carmen hadn't been able to make a single new conclusion. They all seemed to agree, true enough, but they agreed on the wrong thing.

"Maybe it's just a coincidence," she shrugged. "Maybe I'm being paranoid and reading into this a little bit too much." But, reading over the articles one by one, the clouds of doubt rolled through her head again.

First and foremost, she was a reporter, a snoop, and a snoop knew that if you were investigating something with both eyes open, there was no such thing as coincidences. There were connections, and there were probabilities, but not coincidences.

John Shooter couldn't have written Sowing Season in 1997 as he had supposedly told Mort if he had died in 1985. It wasn't just improbable, it was _impossible_. All the papers shared the same story of his death. He was dead as a doornail.

There was one thing that Carmen was absolutely sure of. Dead men tell no tales, and they certainly didn't jump out of their graves to write lengthy manuscripts of them.

The government had given Timothy Haley the deed to Shooter's farm, and he didn't appreciate it. Haley was a sport and let Shooter stay and tend to his precious cows and corn, but it wasn't good enough. One night, while Haley was out on his tractor, Shooter came out with a cocked gun pointed at him, screaming about how he'd lost everything that he'd been planning to leave for his family.

Haley didn't stop the tractor, hoping that Shooter would get scared off, but realized too late that the man with the gun wasn't about to move. This wasn't about to end until one or the other was dead.

Shooter was pinned underneath the tractor until he die, which, in all likelihood, couldn't have taken too long. When someone came for the body, it was barely recognizable, but Haley said there was no way that the corpse wasn't that of John Shooter.

He got off, claiming it was self-defense. A bullethole in the bottom of the tractor proved him true, since it also proved that Shooter was holding a cocked revolver.

And these names...

Carmen was a born nitpicker, and she had a penchant for picking out tiny details and similarities that anyone else would find insignificant. _Timothy Haley killed his wife,_ _Amelia_...

"Nicknamed Amy, perhaps?" Carmen muttered under her breath...

His three sons, Kenneth... 

"Ken Karsch, Private Investigator..."

Thomas... 

"Tom Greenleaf..."

_and Theodore..._

"Ted Milner."

Four deaths in 1985 were indirectly caused by John Shooter, true enough, but it was a far stretch of the imagination to say that this fated Amy Rainey, Ken Karsch, Tom Greenleaf, and Ted Milner to death in 2004. The fact that they possibly shared names didn't automatically sentence them to death row. Things didn't work that way. It was nothing but very strange similarity, wasn't it?

"Nuh-uh, I'm wrong," Carmen said, drumming her fingers absently on the table. "Ken, Tom, and Ted aren't necessarily short for Kenneth, Thomas and Theodore. Maybe they're short for..." She sighed in exasperation. In all likelihood, those were their real names.

"Whatever! Names are a dime a dozen," she convinced herself. "If I knew my family at all, I'd probably have millions of cousins and aunts and uncles with those names."

But the corn was an odd thing that perhaps only Carmen would notice. According to Mort, and confirmed by the papers, Shooter was a dairy farmer. Last time she checked, dairy came from cows, and unless those cows threw it back up after eating it, corn didn't. Why such the fascination with corn? Corn was nothing. She shouldn't have noticed it. But it was her nature to find these ridiculous things...like corn. It seemed to show up everywhere.

John Shooter had died over it. Amy Rainey was buried _under _it. If anything, it was just a strange twist of fate, a tedious and irrelevant factor, but it was still worth noticing. It was a talking point, an interesting detail that only added to the suspicion.

"Mort needs to see this," Carmen said, standing up and slapping the table with her hand impatiently. She gathered up all of the papers and held them in one hand, swiping her car keys up with the other. She didn't bother to put on a jacket. She merely walked out of the house in her pajama pants and tanktop, into the cold night, and got into her car.

She drove off quickly, trying to find her way around, but found herself in the very position she had sworn to herself she wouldn't. She was lost. This time, it was dark. There were no lights besides her own headlights, and she was hopelessly lost. Her brain didn't seem to be registering this fact, though, either because she refused to believe how lost she was, or that she was solely thinking about driving and holding onto the papers in the freezing wind. She just kept going along a road she had never seen before. She didn't even know she was heading in completely the wrong direction by now...she looked out her window, squinting, trying to see the surroundings. She didn't see a tree limb from above break, crash down onto the hood of her car, and roll onto the road in front of her.

She cried out in pain as her legs were pinned down momentarily by the impact, though somehow not broken. Her legs gave way to the jagged pain of broken metal cutting into her and she let the brake pedal loose, sending the car hurtling backwards down the incline into a tree.

The force sent her head flying forward, but she covered herself with her hands to keep her head from hitting hard against the steering wheel. In this motion, she didn't notice that she had let go of the papers and sent them flying out into the cold, howling wind, where they were swept outside. That didn't matter now. All she could think was that it hurt so badly. She wished she could just blank out already.

She couldn't move her legs now unless she wanted to risk them being torn to shreds by the broken glass and metal. She sat hopelessly, crying silently to herself. She was stuck, and only just realizing how cold it was...so cold.

In ten or twenty minutes, she couldn't quite tell, she couldn't even feel the goosebumps in her arms or legs. She was numb all over, and shivering. She licked her lips, which felt like ice, and knew she was starting to get desperate. She reached over to the glove compartment, stretching as well as she could. Her arm tingled with the sudden motion of the cold muscles.

"Let it be here," she panted through a deep grimace. "Let me have been my usual forgetful self and left it..."

She managed to get the tiny latched door open and smiled as best as she could. She had left her cellphone there. She swiped for it, and clumsily dialed 911...

"I'm stuck..."she whimpered... "In the woods..." her breath hitched, and she couldn't speak anymore.

_Hello? Hello? We're on our way..._

* * *

I seemed to get a lot of feedback about adult monopoly. I had no **idea **that you all liked board games that much! Haha

**over-dramatic-05: **tisk tisk, we wouldn't want to hurt teh sheriff's feelings! haha. You have such hostile feelings towards the old fart! hee. Almost makes me feel bad for him. Maybe I should just give the guy a break and have Carmen quite picking on him.....nah. And...Barbie: Queen of the Prom. Interesting....

**lordoftheringsfanficreader: **Yeah, Carmen's pretty good at getting her way. She has a thing for getting out of trouble, right? Hopefully it holds up for her,

**Dawnie-7: **Haha, Mort and Carmen should collaborate and write a book together, haha. What a story that would be...

**Kurama13: **Harhar. I don't think the sheriff finds Carmen very sweet.

**blackcharityflint: **I've never seen Lost in La Mancha. I want to. sigh

**Well, until next chappie, my friends! Write long reviews, because i'm b0o0o0o0ored. Haha**


	10. He Doesn't Love You

Okay, you guys. I own Carmen and Rob. I don't own whatever kind of car I mention. And no laughs and adult board games in this chapter. We're getting down to business here, people.

* * *

It was a muggy Thursday morning, long before sunrise, and Mort woke up earlier than he usually did because of the sound of sirens in the distance, something that wasn't usually audible to him from his home in the mountains. He looked at the clock and saw that it was only four in the morning.

"Did I call 911 in my sleep or something?" he muttered. Then, his eyes flew wider, and he was quite awake when he realized that he wasn't the only one who lived in the area. He grabbed his coat from the hanger, and walked out to his beat-up SUV. He drove along, following the sound of sirens all the way down to town, stopping around the corner from the hospital and continuing on foot.

He had to lean against the wall for support when he saw the person on the stretcher that they carried out of the ambulance. He could barely tell it was her. She was unconscious, and so pale, but he'd know that face anywhere.

"Carmen," he muttered. He ran over to the emergency entrance, barreling after the people carrying the stretcher, only to have the way blocked by a gaggle of nurses.

"You'll need to wait here," the tallest, oldest one said.

Oh, they knew why he was there. Ever since Carmen moved into the area, she went into town for lunch often. Since she was often fairly pleasant company, this was no problem, except for the fact that Mort now had the gall to come along with her. They knew what kind of interest he'd taken in the girl.

"No, I won't need to _wait _anywhere," he said, crossing his arms. "I'm getting in there right now whether you like it or- -"

"She's being look at right now. We aren't quite sure of her condition," one of the head nurses interrupted stoically. "You can't go in there. When she's admitted into a private room, you can sign in with everyone else during visiting hours."

"What, you think I'm gonna screw around with the equipment in there and burn the place down? I just need to _see _her!" He said, throwing his hands up. The nurses didn't budge. "At least tell me if she's doing okay," he said in a rather defeated voice.

"Too early to know for sure," said one of the shorter, squatter nurses in the back of the group.

"You people here are a bunch of screwed-up geezers!" he screamed into the room. A few people gaped at him, and he just slumped into a rigid chair in a secluded corner of the room.

_Why's she in here?_

"I don't know," Mort muttered, trying not to be heard. "I don't know what happened to her. I don't know,"

_Are you sure? You aren't cooking up any theories at all?_

"Of course I am," he spat back. "A million horrible things could have happened to her, and I just might have thought of every single one of them."

By now, a few people couldn't help furtively glancing in his direction as he sat alone, arms crossed, muttering incessantly to himself.

_You aren't thinking about the possibility that this had something to do with you?_

"Me?" Mort snapped back, "I didn't do anything. That's the one thing we can rule out, right now. I didn't do this,"

_Didn't you?_

"No," he growled through gritted teeth, trying to hold his temper. "No, I did absolutely nothing. I _never _did _anything _all right?"

_Never, hm? They're probably cooking up a new story about this right now at the diner, aren't they? Were you **really **sleeping for the whole night? Been a while since you've done that. You're the only one who could've gotten to her up in those woods..._

He was just about to crack and start yelling when a nurse stepped out and looked straight at him.

"They're admitting visitors to her room now," she said blankly with evident strain in her voice. Mort stood up right away and followed the woman, who insisted on taking him up to the room, out of suspicion more than anything.

"Hypothermia, for sure," the nurse said as they walked. Mort knew she was referring to Carmen. "Her legs were pinned down. Most likely a tree fell on the car. Somehow, nothing's broken, but it wouldn't be smart to have her walking around so much when she's up. She most likely passed out from the cold." The nurse said all of this, trying to sound remorseful, but failing miserably.

"Can you leave now?" he snapped at her once they reached the door. The nurse flinched and left resentfully. Mort inhaled deeply and peered his head into the room, but pulled out again immediately, grimacing.

"This has gotta be the wrong room," he muttered, hitting the back of his head slightly against the wall. He wrung his hands and walked in, sitting in a chair next to the bed.

Now there was no mistaking that he was in the right place. There was Carmen lying there, not like she was sleeping. When she was asleep on the rug in front of the fire, she was curled up, and her cheeks were rosy. Now, she was lying flat on the stark white bed, pale, and quite cold. The monitor next to her showed that she was still alive, but its ominous beeping gave Mort an eerie feeling.

_You still think she's gorgeous, even hooked up to all these machines._

"Yeah," Mort replied, knowing that no one was around to hear him anyway. "Morbid as it is, yeah. She's still beautiful. She's still- -"

_You're terrified. She looks like she's dead..._

"No, she doesn't," Mort said adamantly, holding his head up and putting on a stoic face. "She's doesn't look dead. She just looks cold...and tired..." He shook his head wearily. She _did _look like she was slipping away. Her eyes were closed, and he couldn't look into those pools of emerald green, full of life.

_Take a nap. She won't be up anytime soon._

"I wanna be awake when she's better," he groaned. "I wanna- -" he yawned, and put his head down on her cold hand, not caring. He just needed to go to sleep.

* * *

Carmen was trapped in a dream, with no way to wake up. She tried to will herself awake, but it was no use. Had something happened? She couldn't force herself to open her eyes. She remembered being in the car, trying to call an ambulance or something...

And now, everything was just cold. Everything was one great shadow, and silence, until...

"We ain't done with our business yet," came that dreadful, Mississippi drawl. Shooter's voice boomed around her with an eerie echo, and she wanted to just curl up like a child and cover her ears. "I ain't finished with you yet. This ain't the end of this,"

"What do you want from me?" She growled angrily. "What the hell am I doing that pisses you off so badly? Answer me, you son of a bitch! What the **hell **have I done wrong?"

"You ain't done nothin' wrong," the bodiless voice droned on. "Honest, I'm still tryin' to figure you out, miss. But Mister Rainey...I can't have you tellin' him nothin' about me,"

"Can't you?" she snapped back. "What are you doing, stealing someone's identity? John Shooter died twenty years ago- -"

"I AIN'T DEAD!" he roared ominously. "Now, don't you go telling Mister Rainey none of your stories, or I'll just have to take care of him,"

"Not if I can help it," she hissed.

"But you can't, miss," he said. "You can't help it none. You can't _change_ it none. You tried to, and look what you get yourself into."

"I'm not _in _anything," she retorted.

"You ain't sleepin'," he said. Just by the tone of his voice, Carmen could tell that if she could see him, he'd have a sick smile on is face. Just the thought made her nauseous. "You're lying in a hospital. They're thinkin' you're gonna die. I ain't gonna have it like that, though."

"I am NOT just a pawn in the game going on in your sick little head," she shrieked. "I'm warning you- -"

Suddenly, Shooter materialized in front of her with a pop, and his hand shot out around her neck. "You ain't in no place to be making threats, especially against me," he said, staring into her wide, fearful eyes. "You know you're afraid of me. You got good reason too. Smart. I can cause you and Mister Rainey a whole lot of hurtin'. You wouldn't want to see nothin' happen to him, right?"

Carmen nodded weakly, and Shooter looked quite satisfied with himself, stepping back and pulling his hand away from her.

"I knew I'd break you," he laughed darkly. "I knew, in time, you'd be doin' as I said. You're gonna remember this little talk forever, ain't you? You're gonna remember this..."

"Right," Carmen nodded again. For one of the few times in her life, she was shaking horribly. "I...I won't tell him...tell him anything."

"There's a good girl," he laughed nastily. "Now we know who's in control here. I s'pose I can let you go now..."

* * *

Mort stirred after a long nap, still sitting in a chair with his head on Carmen's hand. She hadn't yet moved. He looked up at the clock and noticed that it was already ten in the morning. Six hours of sleeping, and still nothing?

"You never sleep in this late," he joked weakly. "If you're trying to get beauty sleep, you don't need it..."

Her eyelids fluttered slightly, and Mort's hand jetted out to grab hers again. She was a bit warmer, probably due to the thick blankets that the hospital hand practically smothered her in. He started rubbing the back of her hand fervently, staring straight at her eyes, which now were nearly halfway open.

Before she had even gotten her eyes open, however, her mouth started moving. Of course, she'd be talking right away.

"These blankets are itchy," she said in a hoarse voice. Mort couldn't help but laugh as she squinted at the bright lights of the hospital room. "I don't think I have a car anymore," she whined. "I liked my car..."

"Well, at least you weren't walking," he said, "It would've hurt a whole lot more of the tree had hit your head."

"I'd be dead," she laughed quietly, "It must've been a pretty big chunk of tree if it broke my car."

"I think you're lucky nothing else broke," he said gravely. "So, are you gonna tell me what happened, and what you were doing out there?"

"I was just going up to your house because..." she paused. She _couldn't _tell him why she had been out there. "Well, no reason,"

"Oh, come on," Mort laughed, "You expect me to believe you were just out before dawn so you could drop by and say hello?"

"Yeah, I guess. Silly, huh?" she smiled weakly. _Please, oh PLEASE, let him fall for it._

Mort raised an eyebrow and gave her an appraising glance. "Sounds a little fishy to me, but I'll take that answer for now."

"When are they letting me out of here?" she whined. "This place looks so...yuck! I mean, you put sick people in here, they want to get out so badly that they either kick the bucket or they get better. They don't even _need _doctors."

There was a slight knocking sound from the doorway, and the two looked up to see a nurse standing in the doorway.

"You'll be able to go home at around seven tonight," she said timidly, and then she ducked out of the room.

"Well, I've got to go," Mort nodded. "But you swear, you'll get back to me once you get home right?" She looked at her insistently.

"Of course," she laughed, pushing herself up and kissing him on the cheek. "I'll call you right when I get in the door...after I take a nap,"

"Deal," he smiled. Carmen stared after him as he walked out the door.

For the rest of the day, she sat idly, watching whatever channels came up on the tiny TV set in the corner of the room, asking the nurses to get her chips and sodas from the vending machines in the hallway.

It was about six o'clock, and she was about to fall asleep again when the same jumpy nurse showed up in front of the door.

"You have another visitor," she said. Carmen shook herself awake and looked up as Rob stepped in. _Don't start this off with an awkward silence, _she thought, _come on, Rob, say something..._

"Hey, boss," he laughed. "You look good,"

"Considering I'm in a hospital bed, yeah," she smiled. "How'd you know I'd be here."

"They checked out your car at the accident site," he said, "You had me listed as your 'In Case of Emergency' contact."

"They've been poking through my stuff?" she laughed, "Go figure. Now I don't even have a car."

"Ah, I wouldn't worry too much about that," he laughed, "You never colored your hair before, so don't go giving yourself white hairs now,"

"You're right," she said, rubbing her forehead, "I'll figure that part out later."

"When can you get out of here?" he asked, "I've been in the building for five minutes and I'm bored already."

Carmen looked up at the clock. "Well, I should be able to leave in about half an hour, so I'll probably just catch a cab home,"

"Or," Rob began, "I could hang around for half an hour and drive you home to spare you the twenty bucks, and the humiliation."

"That works too," she smiled, "But don't you go around thinking I owe you or anything,"

"Wouldn't dream of it," he laughed. "So, how are things going between you and Mort?"

"Okay," she shrugged honestly. "I mean, it's definitely not what I'm used to, but things are fine." She wasn't about to mention John Shooter, or the dream. Unfortunately...

"They said they found some papers by your car at the accident," Rob said placidly. "They gave them to me at the front desk. Apparently, you've been researching something about a guy named John Shooter. I gather from the notes you scribbled all over the papers that- -"

"Nothing!" Carmen snapped. She didn't know why it disturbed her so much that Rob found the papers, but she didn't want him to show her that he had learned any more. "Just a bunch of coincidences, that's all."

"Coincidences that have something to do with Mort Rainey," Rob nodded knowingly. "I don't think everything's _okay_."

"Well, then you're more of a paranoid freak than I am," she said defensively. "I just used the wrong sources."

"This is what you wanted me to help you look for," Rob said, holding up a pile of papers. "I mean, I understand you wanting to know about you family, but this is crazy. What's going on?  
"I just got too curious and read into it too much," she said, trying to laugh, "It was stupid."

"Right," Rob said.

"You underestimate me," Carmen said weakly, "You can't honestly think that every guy I'm interested in that isn't you is _completely_ psychotic."

* * *

Carmen was glad to be leaving the hospital. She was glad to be going back to her own house, and back to her own bed, which she never slept in. Rob helped her into his car and switched the radio, knowing it would break some of the tension their earlier conversation had caused.

Right before they turned the corner that would let her see her cabin, Rob stopped the car rather abruptly and pulled over. He looked over at Carmen.

"Take this," he said, pulling something out of his pocket.

"A key?" Carmen said, looking at it as he handed it to her and started the car again. "For what? I don't get- -"

They turned the corner, and Carmen squeaked in surprise. In the driveway was a car. Honestly, Carmen knew nothing about cars, but she _this one _was gorgeous.

"Rob," she said shakily, "No way." Rob was practically famous at the office for his sports car collection, which he had acquired from his father, the billionaire owner of a successful business in California.

"Ah, I signed it over to and everything this morning," he said, "Think of it as a peace offering,"

"Thank you!" she squealed loudly, throwing her arms around him. "You crazy freak, I can't BELIEVE that you're giving this to me! It's GORGEOUS!"

"I know," he laughed sincerely, "She's my baby, so take care of her. PREMIUM GAS, and only premium!"

"You're obsessed," she smiled, crossing her arms.

"_Some of us_ have a hobby besides working," He said to her.

"_Some of us_ don't have filthy rich daddies," she laughed.

"Fine, Super Plus," he said, "Now, get back in your house, and DON'T go driving in the car, no matter how much of a beauty it is."

"Right," she laughed, getting out. "I'll get back to working on everything in the morning. You know how I hate falling behind, right?"

"Back to work already?" Rob laughed, calling out as she walked to the door. "You're crazy, Carmen." She looked back at him, smirked, then went inside.

Right away, she flopped onto the couch and put her head down. She was asleep within five minutes.

* * *

**_This dream was not like the others. It was NOTHING like the others._**

This dream wasn't eerie, or spooky, and the sound didn't seem to echo. It was just _normal_. Carmen should have had no reason to be afraid.

She was sitting on the couch, leaning her elbows on the coffee table, and Shooter was seated on the floor across from her.

"What do you want now?" she asked simply, her face showing no signs of emotion. "I didn't say anything to Mort. You're using me like a puppet, just like you wanted to."

"I ain't fixin' to cause no trouble. Only tryin' to give you the truth, miss," he nodded calmly. "Mister Rainey's told you about how I killed his wife and whole mess o' others, I reckon?"

"Damn right, he has," Carmen snapped.

"I killed 'em for a reason," Shooter said, "It's on account of how much he cared for 'em,"

"I doubt he _cared _much for Ted Milner," Carmen snapped.

"Hated him with a passion, though, didn't 'e?" Shooter shrugged. "Old Mister Greenleaf, Rainey needed him desperately to prove he wasn't tellin' no lies about me. That investigator, Rainey needed him badly to keep me away. And Amy...'e still loved that woman, didn't 'e?"

"Loved her?" Carmen asked, her voice catching in her throat. "You're wrong. How could he love her after what she did to him? He'd be crazy to still care about her,"

"If he _didn't_, then why would he refuse to sign the divorce papers," Shooter said placidly. "You think I didn't know 'bout that, but I do. I know everythin' 'bout Mister Rainey, and I **know **that he didn't sign no papers."

"Fine, you've got me there," Carmen said, leaning back into the couch. "Your point?"

"I haven't killed _you _yet," he pointed out.

"And I'm thinking that you're planning to?" Carmen said.

"No," Shooter shrugged simply. "Sure, hurtin' ya and messin' ya up a bit, but the thought o' killin' ya never crossed my mind."

"No?" Carmen asked as her face twisted into an expression on confusion. "Am I not good enough to be your next victim?"

"Mister Rainey doesn't think so," he said nastily. Carmen narrowed her eyes. "Let's be honest, miss. He don't care for you enough for me to spill your blood. I'm no monster, ma'am,"

"Really?" she snapped sardonically.

"You'll never compare to his wife," Shooter said. "I ain't tellin' you no lies. You ask 'im. You'll always be second best."

"I'm _not_ second best," she said in a dangerous tone.

"It ain't my opinion," Shooter said, holding his hands up defensively, a gesture that surprised Carmen greatly. "You're the ideal, miss, you really are, but Rainey ain't right in the head. I'll leave it up to you."

* * *

Carmen woke up, sitting bolt upright. That wasn't a _normal _dream. She had to know...

She picked up the phone and dialed frantically, barely able to hit the right numbers because of how badly her fingers were shaking. She needed both hands to hold up the receiver as it rang. She was coming close to just hanging up.

"Hello?" Mort said, his greeting sounding like a question. Even this made Carmen seem rather suspicious.

"I need to ask you something," she snapped breathlessly, "I need to know, right now. Who do you choose, me or Amy?"

"What?" Mort said, completely taken by surprise. "You're forgetting that being with Amy isn't exactly an option right now,"

"Answer the question," Carmen said, trying not to sound like she was angry, even though that was exactly how it was turning out to be. "It's simple enough."

"Amy's DEAD," Mort said insistently.

"Mort, answer the damn question, all right?" she said, hissing slightly through her teeth, "It has a one word answer, and it shouldn't be too hard."

"I can't compare you two," Mort said, his voice displaying a hint of panic. "I mean, I was with Amy for more than ten years, and we haven't even been together for two months- -"

"Oh," she interrupted, cutting off his voice, "I guess that speaks volumes, then." She inhaled quietly. "I guess I just thought that the fact that I _cared _about you made up for the fact that I don't know you as well as Amy did. I should've known I'd always be second best to her."

Mort scrambled for something to say back, but couldn't think fast enough to beat Carmen. He heard the receiver on her end slam violently.

Carmen, less than a mile away from Mort, felt as far from him as she had ever felt, and yet it wasn't far enough.

"I can't be here right now," she muttered hopelessly to herself. "I just need to get away. Maybe I can just put this all behind me."

* * *

Haha, time for A/n's! fun fun fun!

**over-dramatic-05: **You resognized Bump! I was hoping someone would! haha. And the history lesson with John Shooter? Oh, there's still more. I've pretty much mapped out John Shooter's life! Haha. Maybe I should do another fic all about Shooter! Haha, just kidding. Maybe.

**lordofthekingsfanficreader: **THANK YOU! hugs! hee! That is probably **the **highest praise I could ever receive for this fic! THANKS AGAIN! I will love you FOREVER if you keep reviewing until the ending!

**Kurama13: **oooh yeah, connected in lots of screwy ways.

**Dawnie-7: **Well, Carmen isn't frozen solid! Score one for the sane girl! Haha, we have her all thawed out now, and ready for round two of snooping


	11. Twenty Questions Cut Short

Okeeday, I own Carmen, Rob, and the three Carters, who you're going to meet in this chapter. Okay, two of them are pretty much filler characters, but one of them is important. Big kudos to anyone who can guess which one actually shows up again.

* * *

"Rob," Carmen practically whimpered into her cell phone. She had been pitying herself enough, as far as she cared, and had no intention of causing herself any further humiliation, "Rob, I need you to make a call for me,"

"Whoa," he said, taken aback by the panicky tone in her voice. "Slow down, Carmen. I can't hear you. You're breaking up. Where the hell are you?"

"In the car," she panted, "I need you to call the Carter trio and see if they've got room on their couch."

"The _Carter trio_?" Rob said in disbelief. They were three _completely unrelated _ladies surnamed Carter that worked at A-List. It was bad enough that they had come together to form a clique of three girls with the same last name. They even lived together in the same apartment, and Rob hated them with a vengeance. "Why?!"

"I'm going back up to the city for a while," Carmen said, trying to calm herself. "Probably for a _long _while. I need to get away from Tashmore Lake. They know how to have a good time, and that's what I need."

"This is lame. Their idea of a good time is hitting up five clubs a night," Rob tried to reason with her. "You're not like that."

"A few days of letting loose won't kill me," she said. "Besides, I'll be able to come to the office while I'm there and bitch at everyone for old times' sake."

"Fine," Rob said in resignation. "I'll give them a call, then I'll get back to you."

"Okay," Carmen said. "Thanks, Rob. I know how much you hate _ever _speaking to them."

"You have _no_ idea." Rob laughed right before he hung up.

Carmen was driving on the highway, with the radio blaring. She couldn't stand driving in silence right now. Silence would only make her go crazy faster. She felt betrayed, and worse, she thought she had no right to feel that way.

"Of course Mort was going to choose Amy," Carmen muttered. "I mean, he married her, didn't he? No matter how much she did to him," She glared down at the radio, "I need some more depressing music," she flicked the dial and rolled her shoulders as the expensive speakers in the new car pumped out the excruciatingly loud bass. Some passing cars stared as she passed them, but she honestly didn't give a damn.

She didn't hear her phone ring again, but she did notice that, ten minutes later, she received a text message from Rob:

**Carters said ur welcome 2 stay. U can't hear ur phone. Turn down the bass.**

"Ass," Carmen laughed, putting her phone down. She was glad she had happened to glance down at her phone, because she had just gotten into the city. She'd now be continuing to the apartment, which belonged to Andrea Carter, Joyce Carter, and Melanie Carter.

The scenery of the city seemed oddly strange to her now. The cars zooming by made Carmen feel dizzy and disoriented, even though she had only been away for less than three months. She turned her radio down because the flurry of noise and light simply attacked her senses too much. She hadn't gone back into the city for quite a while.

She had just gotten back to a point where her head didn't feel like bursting when her cell phone rang.

"Hello?" she groaned groggily.

"Carmen?" said a very high, energetic voice, "It's me, Carter!"

"Which one?" Carmen laughed.

"The brunette Carter."

"Ok," Carmen laughed. Two of the Carters were blonde, and the brunette was slightly more tolerable. "How's everything going, Melanie?"

"Oh, it's all peachy," she said. "Rob called and said you'd be coming by here. How long are you going to be in town for?"

"Is two weeks all right with you? I wouldn't want to intrude," Carmen said uncomfortably. She simply wasn't _girly _enough to relate to these other women most of the time.

"Oh _no!_" Melanie simpered. "I mean, anything for the boss, right? You're always so uptight, I think Andi and Joyce have been waiting for this moment."

"Well," Carmen sighed, looking out of her car window. "I'm here. Recreate me, girls." She hung up and stepped out of her car, making sure to pull her backpack out of the passenger seat, then lock all the doors. She hadn't been away from the city long enough to forget that some people would do _anything _to get inside a nice car.

Right when she had inspected her new vehicle's security system to her liking, three women rushed out of the main entrance to the apartment building and greeted in her in a flurry of squeals and hugs.

"We _knew _you'd come see us eventually," said Joyce, and thin, tall woman with blue eyes and pin-straight blonde hair.

"Definitely!" said Andi, a more athletic looking type with curly, strawberry-blonde hair.

The third woman, Mel, was a more subdued brunette with brown hair and eyes. She reached out for Carmen's backpack. "Let me get that for you," The four walked jovially towards the elevator- -they were heading towards the suite up on the top floor.

"You're just in time," said Andi. "We were about to hit this _great _club down the street tonight."

"Right now?" Carmen asked. "Wearing this?" She looked down distastefully at her sweatpants and tanktop and irked an eyebrow. "I don't _think _so."

"Ah, you're the perfect size to fit into Andi's clothes. Carmen flinched. She knew what these ladies dressed like. They were all most definitely the most fashionable women at _A-List_, but occasionally bordered on risqué. Now, borrowing Andi's clothes might be a bit of an experience, seeing as she was probably the most daring. Carmen followed Andi to her closet, where she immediately began pulling out piles and piles of clothes.

"Well," Carmen muttered to herself, "I wanted to let loose, and I guess I'll be doing a lot of it,"

But, after ten minutes of watching them dig through piles and piles of clothes emblazoned with beads and sequins, Carmen started to fear what they were looking for.

"How about we just have a girls' night _in_?" she suggested.

"Hmph, I guess it's not so bad," Andi said. "Joyce, get the drinks out of the fridge. We're gonna play a little game of Twenty Questions."

"Oh, God," Carmen said as Andi dragged her into the living room. "This game is so _juvenile _and I- -"

"Haven't played it since you were in ninth grade, right?" Joyce said, entering the room with Mel, each of them holding a bottle of some drink- -Carmen wasn't well-versed as far as alcohol was concerned, so she didn't know what it was. "Now's the perfect time to remember how fun it was, right?"

"Oh, whatever," Carmen replied, taking the bottle that Joyce was offering and taking a careless swig. She held it out towards Mel. "Want a sip?"

"Oh, no," Mel said, holding up her hands. "I don't drink anymore."

"She's the tame one," Andi laughed, elbowing Mel in the side. "All right, so here's the first question."

"We're asking _me _all the questions?" Carmen asked suddenly. The others just nodded. Carmen just rolled her eyes is acceptance of what they were going to do.

"Name of last significant other?" Andi asked.

"Mort Rainey," Carmen said without a hitch. The three suppressed gasps and giggles. "Yes, _the _Mort Rainey," Carmen laughed, looking downward.

"Are you still together?" Mel asked without hesitation.

"Um, I don't know," Carmen said quietly, taking a big swig of her drink.

"Why don't you know?!" Joyce asked, raising an eyebrow. Carmen flinched noticeably. She hadn't really given any thought as to _why _this was happening.

"I guess I'm jealous of his ex-wife at times," she said honestly, swirling the bottle in her hand and throwing back another hearty gulp. "They were married for a pretty time, and...well, I guess it's hard to feel like I'm up to it."

"And what's wrong with that?" Mel asked. "I mean, at least you acknowledge that there's competition involved."

"He's a widower."

"Oh." Mel said. "I can still understand, though. You feel like you need to compete with her, right?"

"Yeah," Carmen nodded.

"Have you ever slept with him?" Andi asked excitedly.

"No," Carmen said, blushing.

"But you've thought about it, right?" Joyce piped in, Carmen's eyes widened and she looked like she was struggling for air. She opened and closed her mouth but found nothing coming out, so she took another big drink, then looked down at the bottle, which was almost empty.

"Well..." she said, rolling her shoulders awkwardly. "I mean, sure, I've _thought _about it, but who wouldn't? He's...he's just...well, he's _him_!"

Mel clicked her tongue at Carmen. "You've got it bad for this guy."

"Maybe," Carmen said, looking out the window. Suddenly she put her hand to her forehead. "I think I need to go down for the night."

"Already?" Andi and Joyce squealed in unison, but Mel just nodded sympathetically.

"You got the guest room," she said, waving to the door just behind Carmen. She staggered into the door, and was down fast.

"Wow," Andi laughed. "This Mort guy went and tamed Carmen."

"Yeah," Mel nodded, smiling widely, "And here we thought she'd be single forever, huh?"

Joyce reached over and grabbed the bottle Carmen had been drinking from. It barely had anything left in it. "If she really _is _tame now, she'll be feeling like crap in the morning."

* * *

A/N's

So Carmen went and ran away from Tashmore Lake? Tsk tsk, how imamture. Next chapter, we learn that SOMEONE knows a little more than they should, plus we get a little more background on our favorite killer.

Guuh, I'm sorry, but I have zero energy left to respond to my reviews! Buuuut, if you leave a nice DEEP review for this chappie, I'll reply to my reviews to BOTH chappies, next chapter.

Adios!


	12. AlcoholInduced or Prophetic Dream?

I only own my originals! haha. I don't own "Just Once" by James Ingram. I just heard the song, and kinda..well, whatever.

Gaah. It took a while for me to update, and this chapter isn't worth very much. There's a couple things here and there you might want to pick up on. The next chapter is all written, and I'm just waiting a little bit to put it up

* * *

Excessive alcohol certainly was no friend of Carmen's. Now, she was sleeping, but not peacefully. She was tossing and turning every few seconds, and groaning. This dream she was having, she didn't see a single glimpse of John Shooter. This dream was somehow worse. It was snapshots of odd things that she could never decipher.

Three people driving away from an old house.

A funeral with a closed casket, with very few people surrounding the open grave.

A dead woman hanging from a barn loft.

A little girl screaming and crying.

Carmen woke up, having nearly fallen off of the bed. She panted softly and looked up at the ceiling in confusion, then at the clock. It was already eleven o'clock in the morning. She rubbed her eyes and walked out of the room, where Joyce, Andi, and Mel were all waiting.

"Well," Joyce shrugged. "At least she's not hung over."

"Good." Andi said. "We're taking you out to lunch."

"And shopping," Mel smiled deviously.

"AND!" Joyce said exuberantly, "Tonight, we'll show you what the night life _really _is."

"We're doing all that today?" Carmen laughed. "Damn, you guys don't waste any time."

"You're a critical case." Joyce said, shaking her head. "You're taking your life way too seriously right now. You need to have a little fun while you're here."

"And don't say you can't, just because you're thinking about Mort," Mel said. "You're here to take a break from that, and that's what you're going to do."

"Okay," Carmen shrugged quietly. "Let's get on with it. I'll go get dressed."

Well, when Carmen said, 'get dressed,' she really meant it. This was a throwback to her days as an intern at A-List. She was in a white miniskirt, white heels, and a cropped red silk button-up shirt.

Joyce did a wolf-howl, laughing raucously. "Well, there's the Carmen we all knew and loved!"

"Why did you think to bring _that _outfit?" Andi asked, irking her eyebrows suggestively.

"I'm out on the town with the three biggest partiers at A-List," she laughed matter-of-factly. "I'm not about to be outshone." She did a turn then cocked her head. "Judges?"

"Carmen," Mel said, clicking her tongue. "You look better than ever."

"Let's go!" Carmen said energetically, picking up her white denim jacket. "I'm ready to start a riot."

"Well, nothing we'll have to call the police on," Mel laughed. "Let's get this started."

The four rushed out and spent the day on the town. They had lunch in the most expensive place they came across, split the tab, then ran off to wherever the wind took them.

By the time the sun was down, Carmen was feeling like she was on top of the world. It seemed that borderlining on maxing out your credit card provided a natural high.

The next place that they passed while walking around caught Carmen's eye, and she froze in place.

"We have to go here!" she said, pointing back at the music bar they had just passed.

"Good," Joyce laughed, "Because I planned to anyway. You're going to get onstage whether you like it or not." The four laughed as they stepped in, and they pushed Carmen forward towards the microphone.

"Hold on," Carmen muttered as she looked around. "Joyce, why the hell are there cameras in here?"

"Just a few pictures," Joyce replied nonchalantly. "It'll be good for _A-List _for readers to see that you're alive and kicking."

"No one wants tabloid shots of a magazine editor," Carmen said, steadying herself and turning around.

"Well, you see, I sort of called them in," Joyce said simply. "It was a team effort, actually. Call it a gimmick."

"We told them that you went on hiatus from being editor because you were working on breaking into the music business," Andi said.

Carmen rolled her eyes. "And what if Mort gets a hold of these pictures?" she snapped back.

"I thought you said you were forgetting about him," Mel said with a half-smile. Carmen opened her mouth to reply but found herself lost for words. "Just get up there and have fun. It's not every day you can do this.  
"Oh, whatever," she snapped. She scurried up the steps to the stage, and heard someone with a microphone announcing her name.

Joyce ran up to the foot of the stage. "The announcer wants to know what you're singing."

Carmen whispered the first thing she thought of into Joyce's ear. She smiled and ran back to the announcer's box.

Carmen sighed as the music came on, and, for the first time, was reluctant to sing.

I did my best  
But I guess my best wasn't good enough  
'Cause here we are back where we were before  
Seems nothing ever changes  
We're back to being strangers  
Wondering if we oughta stay  
Or head on out the door  
  
Just once can't we figure out what we keep doing wrong?  
Why we never last for very long  
What are we doing wrong?  
Just once can't we find a way to finally make it right?  
Make the magic last for more than just one night  
If we could just get to it  
I know we could break through it  
  
I gave my all  
But I think my all may have been too much  
'Cause Lord knows we're not getting anywhere  
Seems we're always blowing whatever we've got going  
And seems at times with all we've got  
We haven't got a prayer  
  
Just once can't we figure out what we keep doing wrong?  
Why the good times never last for very long  
What are we doing wrong?  
Just once can't we find a way to finally make it right?  
And make the magic last for more than just one night  
If we could just get to it  
I know we could break through it  
  
Just once I want to understand  
Why it always come back to good-bye  
Why can't we get ourselves in hand?  
And admit to one another  
That we're no good with out the other  
Take the best and make it better  
Find a way to stay together  
  
Just once can't we find a way to finally make it right?  
Make the magic last for more than just one night  
I know we can break through it  
If we could just get to it

Carmen didn't pay attention to how the place reacted to it. Frankly, she didn't care if they booed her off. She had just done enough venting for the night, and didn't want to show anyone that she had really, deliberately chosen that song for a reason. She walked back to Joyce, Andi, and Mel as the photographers clicked away as many shots as they damn well pleased.

"Drinks?" Joyce said, waving at a round of glasses at their table. Carmen accepted gladly, but Mel refused and said she was just going to head home.

"Great," Carmen muttered. "The brain of the trio's going home. Let's hope God's on my side tonight."

Well, after Mel was gone, there was no voice of reason for Carmen. She threw back as many drinks as her two companions did, and soon found herself incredibly out of it.

"Haaaa!" she laughed in a slurred voice. "Look at me!" she was now miraculously balancing her martini glass on her head, while Andi and Joyce laughed raucously.

"I'm gonna call Rob and show him!" Joyce laughed, fumbling for her cellphone. It was no small wonder that she could actually dial those tiny buttons. "Rob! Rob look at Carmen!" she laughed loudly.

"Stupid!" Carmen laughed, snatching the phone away. "He can't look through that!...The hole's too small." She put the phone up to her ear. "Hi Rob!"

"Damn it, Carmen," he groaned, "What do you think you're doing? You're TOTALLY wasted."

"Nuh-uh!" Carmen giggled in a singsong voice.

"I'm picking you up _right _now," Rob groaned. "RIGHT now."

Before they knew it, the girls found themselves back in the apartment, letting a long tedious lecture from Rob go in one ear and out the other. Before he had finished his whole spiel about _responsibility_, Carmen stumbled back into the bedroom and went straight to sleep.

When she woke the next morning, she wouldn't remember that she had once again had the same cryptic dream she'd had earlier. She wouldn't think to interpret the things she saw. She would know...nothing.

* * *

A/N's

Okay, this chapter was bad. I don't do "drunk scenes" that well, but I just knew that Carmen should do something like this.

**janemariasparrow: **Thanks for reviewing! Just got your review on the first chapter. Keep reading!

**lordoftheringsfanficreader: **haha, the Carter trio as a unit has a fairly small part. But they did get Carmen totally boozed up! Don't worry, Carmen's wild streak isn't forever.

**Dawnie-7: **Yup, definitely so sixth grade. Of course, this chapter, she's doing stuff I _definitely _wasn't doing in sixth grade. She's just letting loose. She'll be ready to talk to her "corn fetish psychopath killer" boyfriend eventually.

I think that I shall update again when I have 50 reviews. Maybe that's a bit much to ask...Oh well, if it doesn't happen, I'll still update anyway! Haha. I think my writers' block is almost gone!


	13. That VooDoo That You Do

WOOHOO! HALLOWEEN IS NEXT WEEK! HAHA (see previous chapters for disclaimers)

* * *

"You're not hung over?" Mel asked in awe, seeing Carmen up bright and early the next morning. "Honestly, you could hang around Joyce and Andi forever. All of you can drink like mules and wake up in the morning without throwing up once."

"Where _are _Joyce and Andi, anyway?" Carmen asked.

"They went into the office today. They always leave early on Fridays." Mel said. "I'm taking leave for about a year,"

"You are?" Carmen asked. "Why?"

"Well, I'm..." Mel paused. "I'm on the way." Carmen turned her head to the side, not comprehending. "Pregnant," Mel clarified.

"You are?" Carmen squealed. "Congratulations! Did you and your boyfriend from before get engaged too?"

"Hm?" Mel said pensively. "Oh no, he doesn't know. He left. He lives in Detroit...with his wife."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Carmen replied. She wanted more than anything to change the subject. "Well, how far along are you?"

"Little more than a month," Mel said. "So, about all those things you said the other day about Mort? I've been meaning to ask you when I got you alone."

"They were all true," Carmen sighed. "I sort of wished I hadn't said those things, though. I mean, I came here to get away from all of it."

"This guy, Mort, you like him?" Mel asked.

"I don't know anymore," Carmen said honestly. "I don't know if I could even stand the sight of him anymore."

"Oh, that's not true," Mel said knowingly.

"I'm second best to a woman who's already dead," Carmen said stoically. "I don't really find that funny or entertaining. I find it a little bit degrading, actually."

"Then maybe a little time off is just what you need," Mel said carefully. Carmen was about to reply when there was a loud beeping from inside the pocket of the jacket she had worn the night before. She ran over and pulled her phone out.

"Hello?" she said quickly, not bothering to check her caller ID, which proved to be a mistake.

"Where the hell are you?" came Mort's panicking voice on the other line. "I was calling your house for TWO DAMN DAYS and you didn't answer, your phone's been off- -"

"Oh, so you meant to call _me, _then" Carmen asked sarcastically. "I didn't think I was worth wasting your time."

"Just answer the damn question," he said stonily.

"I'm in the city," she said sourly, "Getting the hell away from you."

"What the hell? I thought something happened!" Mort raged on, "I thought you'd gotten into another accident, or you'd died- -"

"Oh, really?" Carmen asked in mock surprise. "Damn, too bad I didn't, right? Then I'd be JUST like Amy! "

"You're freaking out over nothing," he insisted, "What's going on with you?"

"Nothing, I just need to get away!" Carmen snapped shakily.

"Away from WHAT?"

"I don't _know_!" Carmen said hopelessly, "Away from Tashmore Lake, away from YOU!" she hung up and turned off her phone. Then, she flung it across the room so it hit the sofa and bounced onto the floor.

"That's not the reaction of someone who doesn't care," Mel said, crossing her arms. "If you didn't care, it wouldn't hurt you like this,"

"I'm not hurt," Carmen denied, clenching her eyes shut, then opening them again. "I'm pissed off, I'm insulted, I'm _resentful_, but I'm not hurt."

"All right," Mel said resignedly.

"I'm going back to bed," Carmen said quietly, turning back towards her room. "This is worse than any hangover."

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
Carmen got back up at around eleven and saw a note from Mel on the counter.

**Doctor's appointment, then groceries. **

Carmen just shrugged. She'd wanted to go do something today anyway. She got dressed into black jeans and a clingy red polo shirt. She picked up her keys, impatiently rode the elevator down to the ground floor, and walked outside to her car. After she had turned the radio up to her liking, she made her way towards the _A-List _office, about fifteen minutes away.

Even though he didn't officially work there anymore, she breezed past the security guards and secretaries in seconds, some even greeting her with, "Hey, Boss." It was good to know that _some _people knew how to respect her.

She got up to Rob's office, which used to be hers, and rapped her knuckles on the door. "Busy?"

"For you, I know better than to be busy," He laughed, motioning for her to come in. "Actually, this is great. I was gonna go look for you after work anyway, but this is better." He reached into one of his desk drawers and pulled out a slip of paper. "I found this for you."

Carmen walked up and took a quick glance at it: a few numbers on paper.

"Rob, I have your phone number already," she laughed, pocketing the scrap and rolling her eyes.

"It's not mine, stupid," Rob laughed. "You think I'm not aware of the fact that you already know my phone number? You're only calling it at least once a week."

"Then I won't call anymore," She teased, cocking her head to the side.

"And deprive me of the raging phone bills every month?" Rob gasped sarcastically. "Say it isn't so, Carmen! Say it isn't so!"

"Enough dumbfucking, Rob, what's this number for?" Carmen said, crossing her arms.

"I just thought you'd be interested," Rob said. "The papers that I picked up when you were in the accident- -"

"No, Rob!" Carmen said loudly, "No! Don't tell me you read those! No one was supposed to know what was on those papers, I really don't care- -"

"You wouldn't waste your time on it if you didn't care," Rob said, "Look, this guy, Timothy Haley, his name came up a lot, and it turns out he isn't dead or anything. Sorry if I wasn't supposed to know, but I do. I can tell that you're dying to call the guy."

"Timothy Haley," Carmen repeated. "This is really the guy's contact info?"

"For all we know, yeah," Rob said matter-of-factly.

"Still in Bandolin, Mississippi?" Carmen said, picking up the paper and looking it over pensively.

"Pretty sure that's the case," Rob said.

"All right, I'll give the guy a call," Carmen said resignedly. "Mind if I use your phone?"

"It'd be a good idea," Rob said, "It's a restricted line, so if the conversation goes sour, it's no harm no foul."

Carmen walked around to sit on Rob's chair, then placed her hand hesitantly on the phone. She was going to call maybe the one person who could prove that Shooter was real...that she and Mort weren't both crazed lunatics. "I'm really going to do this," she said. "I mean, once I pick up this phone, it's a done deal."

"Good," Rob shrugged simply. Carmen gave him one last searching look, then picked up the phone.

"Hello?" she said quietly. "Mr. Haley?"

"Yes," he said suspiciously.

"I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions," Carmen said, trying to keep her voice form wavering, "About John Shooter."

"No." Haley said resolutely. "No, I'm sorry miss, but I don't know what you're talking about."

"Mr. Haley, I promise, I just need to ask you a few questions," Carmen said, trying to keep her voice pleasant, and not at all anxious. "I'd honestly appreciate it a lot."

"I don't want to talk," he said stonily. "You sound like a reporter, miss, and I don't like reporters. I've had enough public exposure to last me till the day I die."

"Mr. Haley, wait, you don't understand!" Carmen said desperately. "My name's Carmen Allen, I'm from New York, and this might be something _very _important."

"Miss Allen, is it?" he asked in vague recognition. "All right, Miss, since you seem concerned, I'll tell you what I can, but that really isn't much."

"Thank you," she sighed, "Anything would help right now."

"I'm thinking you know what everyone _says _happened," Mr. Haley said, "It seems that anyone who's interested in speaking to me does,"

"I heard you were admitted into a mental institution," she said carefully, "For attempted suicide...and hallucinations."

"They weren't hallucinations," Haley said gravely. "I'll tell you right now about John Shooter. Shooter's wife, Arby, she always packed up and took drives to New Orleans. They were into that stuff...that voodoo--"

"Voodoo, Mr. Haley?" Carmen asked skeptically. "As in, 'Oo-ee-oo-ah-ah, ting tang walla-walla bing bang,' magic, witch doctors- -that voodoo?"

"Precisely," Haley said, without a hint of amusement in his voice. "After John was killed, she got desperate. Before she went and killed herself, she got one of those hokey old witch doctors to put a curse on anyone who stole something of her husband's."

"Mr. Haley, get real." Carmen said stonily. "I don't know how old I _sound _on the phone, but I'm not ten years old. I don't believe in all this voodoo mumbo-jumbo. I'd sooner believe the moon was made of cheese,"

"You don't believe in it, eh?" he said. "Neither did I. But then, I started hearing Shooter's voice, seeing his face. He killed my family." He took a deep heaving breath. "It wasn't until afterwards I learned that...it was all me."

"Mort Rainey, my bo- -" she cut herself off and cleared her throat. "A friend of mine, he's been seeing things. He's seen Shooter. Is it possible that perhaps Shooter didn't die that night...with the tractor? He could still be- -"

"No." He interrupted.

"But - -"

"It's **not possible**." Haley snapped adamantly. Then, in a low, gravelly voice, he said, "You'd keep away from your _friend_. He'll be putting a gun to his own head any time now, and he won't hesitate to put it to yours first. He's got something Shooter wants."

Carmen cursed loudly as she heard Timothy Haley hang up. She put her forehead in her hand.

"Carmen?" Rob asked. "Are you all right?"

She shrugged quietly, sat still for a moment, then stood up, starting to walk towards the door. "I need to go. I need to get to Mort, and I need to go **now**. I think something's REALLY wrong."

Rob knotted his eyebrows in disbelief. "You're actually going back to him?" he asked. "This is crazy."

"How is it crazy?" Carmen asked. "He might be in trouble, and I'm the only one who knows enough to help him."

"You think I didn't read into it when I saw those papers?" Rob snapped. "Something freaky's going on, and you shouldn't have gotten involved in it."

"I need to help him!" Carmen said desperately.

"Listen to me, Carmen," Rob said, placing his hands on her shoulders. "You're not Supergirl. You can't do everything, and you can't just keep thinking that you can- -"

"I LOVE HIM, ROB!" Carmen shrieked, pushing him away. Then, she clapped her hand over her mouth in realization of what she had just said.

"You love him?" Rob asked with blank expression.

"Yeah," Carmen said, feeling her knees starting to weaken. "I think I really do."

"Then..." Rob said, sighing heavily. "You should go."

Carmen gave him a lopsided grin, then walked over, hugging him warmly. "I'm scared." She muttered, almost inaudibly, into his shoulder.

"That's a first," he laughed weakly. "Suck it up, Carmen. You need to go get your man."

She stepped back and smiled at him.

"Pep talk over pizza?" she said quietly.

"If you insist," Rob said.

Rob took the rest of the day off, and they went to a pizza place in the city. Now, the jealousy he had felt towards Mort was starting to wear away, as were the things he had felt about Carmen. Instead, he now felt oddly obliged to protect her in any way possible.

* * *

Meanwhile, back in Tashmore Lake, Mort was in a rather depressed stupor, and was awoken by loud banging on his door. Warily, he groaned and stood up, opening his front door, only to see a cluster of Tashmore Lake residents, looking at him as though he had just- -

"We'll get you, this time, Rainey," One man said. Mort groaned inwardly, and wondered why the sheriff wasn't the one interrogating him this time. "We'll get you."

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," he snapped in annoyance, trying to close the door. But another bulky man stepped up and put his arm in the way.

"You killed a man!" he said angrily. "We don't have proof yet, but we all saw someone, and we know it was you. You killed another man! He's dead- -"

"Who the hell is dead?" Mort growled angrily. He didn't like being accused of a crime, this was well known...but it was even worse when he didn't know what the crime was.

"You _know _who we're talking about," A new man said. "And even worse on your part, you don't have that pretty _girl _to think up your alibis for you. SO, tell us, where have you been all night?"

"Sleeping." Mort stated frankly.

"Of course," the first man nodded skeptically, and devious smile appearing on his face. "We have you, now, Rainey. It's just a matter of time."

* * *

A/N's

**punkdpirate: **Update come soon enough for ya? Haha. Well, We saw a little conversation over the phone between Mort and Carmen, but that didn't turn out very pleasant. When they meet in person, maybe you'll find things relatively better.

**lordoftheringsfanficreader: **Haha, Carmen makes an interesting drunk. I don't know if she'll be doing it again, though. Consider it one of your only chances to see Carmen letting loose.

**over-dramatic-05: **Gaaah! I forgot all about the white-after-Labor-Day rule! Haha. I'm not sure what the exact date is in my story right now, but I'm absolutely certain it's after Labor Day. Talk about faux pas, hehe.

**Dawnie-7: **Oh, yeah, Carmen can get very naughty, haha. You're taking good care of Jack, aren't you? haha.

Uh oh, SPAGHETTIOS! Somebody's died. I bet SOMEBODY can guess who it is!


	14. Total Immersion

Ack. I think I made this chapter a little too weird and confusing....Well, I own what I own. That's all

* * *

"She left me," Mort said as he sat on his couch with his head in his hands. "Carmen left. She just...left."

_The one time that you actually need something to say, and you run out of words. Sad, isn't it?_

"No!" Mort roared, throwing his hand wildly into the air, knocking a soda can over in the process. He hadn't been in such a bad state of mind since just after the divorce.

_Yes. Yes, she's gone, all right. You've been calling, and she hasn't been answering. She's **tired **of you and your sick little game._

"What game?" Mort yelled desperately out into the empty room.

_You think she'll just wait like a faithful lapdog until you decide that you're over Amy?_

"I **am **over Amy!" He said shakily, feeling the anger rising inside him.

_Then why didn't you tell her that when you had a chance, hm? _

His thoughts were thrown off by a knock on the door, and the voice inside Mort's head faded away as he looked up at the clock. It was eleven thirty, and raining like hell. "What kind of mailman delivers this late?"

He walked over and opened the door, and found, not a mailman, but Carmen, soaked completely even though she had her hood pulled over her head. He could tell she had been crying pretty hard, too.

"Can I come in?" she asked quietly. Mort nodded and led her inside by the hand. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"For what?" Mort asked, putting his hand on her shoulder, even as she refused to even look at him.

"For showing up like this," she shrugged, at the same time pulling away from his hand. "I don't even know why I'm here. I shouldn't be showing up like this anymore."

"I don't mind," Mort said. He wanted to reach out to her right now, but he knew she wouldn't let him.

"You might not mind, but I do," Carmen said, shaking her head and looking out the window. "I don't like hanging on your every move. I can't just wait for you to be ready for me. I gotta be selfish once in a while."

"Listen," He said, making a bold move and grabbing both of her hands. She seemed so surprised that she didn't think to pull away. "I _am _ready for you, okay? I didn't say it before, and I should have, but just don't act like all of this is nothing."

"It's getting too hard," she said simply, looking over his shoulder. "Everything just seems to be crashing together and not making any sense. I'm not used to things not making sense."

Mort looked discouraged for a moment, but wiped the expression off of his face. "I can't make everything make sense for you again," he admitted. "I know I might make things harder for both of us, but I _also _know that...Carmen, I love you."

"What?" she said, pulling back and staring fearfully into his eyes. "Mort, you don't mean that. You don't mean it, so don't say it"

"I've wanted to say it for a long time, but I didn't want to scare you off." He said. "I thought you'd be happy I said it, too, but I guess I was wrong."

"Don't say that just because it's what I want to hear," she said dismally. "I've had enough guys lie to me like that, and I don't want you to be one of them."

"So you admit that you want to hear it?" Mort said with a slight smile. "I _mean _it, Carmen. Even if you hated my guts, I would still mean it." Carmen brought her hand up to her forehead and ran it through her hair, forcing her hood down at the same time as she combed through her hair.

"How the hell is this going to work out, anyway?" she said quietly. "Every day, one of us gets jealous, and we fight, and hide in our shells. It won't last long like this."

"We're not normal people," Mort laughed, "How can you judge what's gonna happen by what happens to everyone else?" Carmen looked up at him and smiled awkwardly. Her eyes met his, and she felt oddly satisfied—until something in the way he stared made her feel cold all over again. She stepped back once and gazed at him analytically.

"Are you hiding something?" she asked, narrowing her eyes slightly.

"What makes you think that?" Mort asked, crossing his arms.

"I can just sense it sometimes," she said quietly. "You're a lot more tense than you usually are, and frankly, it just seems weird."

"I seem _tense_?" Mort said, cocking his head to the side. "Could that have anything to do with you running off and practically disappearing, then hanging up on me every time I tried to call?"

"So we're pinning this on me again? I should've guessed!" Carmen snapped, throwing her hands up. "I refuse to talk to you on the phone **one **time, and I'm automatically unsympathetic. _You_ drop by uninvited, and I'm automatically not trustworthy. You've had other serious relationships with _perfect _women, and I just don't stack up to the standards, do I?"

"Carmen would you just **stop **trying to be the victim all the time?" he said, putting his fingertips to his temples. "Maybe _someone _needs to tell you that, no, you're not perfect! _Someone _needs to tell you that you can't always bend people to do what you want!"

"So I'm _manipulating _you?" she snapped back. "I'm the one who came crawling back here like a sniveling **idiot **and I'm manipulating you? That's rich, Mort, _really _rich." She turned around to leave, but Mort grabbed her wrist and pulled her back forcefully. He pushed her on the couch and pointed his finger at her angrily.

"We are **not **done talking, Carmen, so don't you **dare **try to leave!" he said. Carmen narrowed her eyes into furious slits and glared at him. His eyes were steely and cold.

"If you **ever **dare to lay a hand on me again, then we really _are _through, Mort." She said.

"This is your fault!" he said angrily, hitting her across the face. Carmen gasped loudly, but didn't let herself start crying. Instead, she looked at him in the eye, daring him to try it again. He just continued seething with fury. "I wouldn't be saying any of this if it weren't true!"

"Like you don't know how to lie!" Carmen said, knocking a glass off of the table and sending it flying to the other side of the room. "Even I don't think I know you! You treat me like I fucking can't understand!"

"Because you can't!" Mort said angrily. "I'm trying to tell you, I **can't **tell you every goddamn detail of my life, because you wouldn't know! You don't have any fucking idea what my life has been like!"

"You know what?" Carmen said quietly with a look of disgust on her face. She had clearly had enough, and didn't want to argue over this moot point any longer. "You're right. I could never understand your life because it's that damn difficult. Everything in your screwy little world is just so messed up that anything that's going on with me doesn't fucking matter to you. I don't even see why I'm still here. You _obviously _have bigger problems, and mine are of little consequence. So let's just say goodbye now...See you in hell."

She stood up and took the opportunity to walk out as Mort stood in shock at what Carmen had just said. He couldn't bring himself to go after. There's was nothing he could concoct to argue against her. She had won this one, and he...he had probably lost her. He heard the door slam as she walked out. He let out a roar of anger and kicked the chair of the coffee table so hard that it cracked.

_So you couldn't hold your temper, and you drove her away. _

"No," Mort said through gritted teeth, clenching his eyes shut.

_Another girl lost because you spent too much time in your own head, right?_

"She'll come back. She'll come back." Mort said , balling his hands up into fists. "I overreacted a little, and I said stupid things. She'll see that, and she'll call, and then I'll apologize."

_You expect her to want to take the initiative on this one? You think **she's **gonna do the work when it's you who needs to apologize?_

"We both need too apologize," Mort justified resolutely.

_Whoa, hold on! Did I miss any part of the argument? At what point did **she **throw **you **across the room and yell at you like you were five years old?_

"I just wanted her to understand!" Mort groaned desperately. "Shut up, shut up- -"

_And you hit her. Do you think she'll just come running back and ask you to lay another punch on the other side of her face?_

"She thinks I'm a liar!" Mort roared angrily.

_Oh, and you're really not hiding anything from her?_

"What are you talking about?"

_You know what I'm talking about. _

Carmen couldn't go home. She couldn't be anywhere that she knew Mort could look for her and try to pick another fight. She got back into her car and drove back into town, back to the diner. She would rather face some cynical, critical townies than have to deal with Mort anymore right now.

However, everyone acted quite strangely when she walked into the diner again. They all stared at her like she was ghost at the moment she walked in.

"What the hell is going on?" she asked, nearly laughing. "You're all acting like someone's died!" A few of them averted their gaze, but the waitress behind the counter spoke up.

"We thought you'd gone missing," she said as she poured a customer a steaming cup of coffee. "There's been a lot of stories about what happened yesterday, and we thought something had happened to you too."

"Yesterday?" she asked, taking a seat on one of the spinning stools. "I've been in the city for about two days. Anyone want to tell me what's going on?"

The waitress pulled a copy of a newspaper out and showed it to Carmen, who nearly screamed when she saw. "You see?" she asked quietly, flicking the paper once or twice. "You see that?"

"Yeah, I see it," Carmen said, nodding weakly. "I see it, but I don't like what I see."

"Then you can tell why we all had our doubts when Mr. Rainey told us you were _out of town_," the waitress said sourly.

"The sheriff?" Carmen said, putting a hand to her throat. This newspaper _had _to be wrong.

"Dead," The waitress said. "Shot yesterday. We saw someone running away, but we never caught him." Carmen shuddered and closed her eyes quickly.

The sheriff had been murdered. Of _course _she knew how this looked. Of _course _everyone would think that Mort had the means, and the motive to do it. He _did._

"And where was Mort?" Carmen asked. She couldn't make up some elaborate cover-up for him this time, and had no desire to. He had gotten himself into this mess, and, in her opinion, didn't deserve her help.

"Supposedly at home," the waitress said.

"We're gonna get him," said one patron. Carmen wheeled around and looked at him.

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"We're gonna pin this one on him for sure," the man said with a conniving smile. Carmen shuddered, and suddenly couldn't hope for anything bad to happen to Mort.

"Not without proof," she said quietly. "The paper says there were investigators. What was their opinion?"

"They called it a suicide, but that's just what Rainey wanted everyone to think." The man replied. "The killer placed the gun in the sheriff's hand before running away. Apparently, he placed it perfectly. Perfect placement, and no extra prints."

"Then you can't do anything," Carmen said.

"I thought you'd have learned your lesson," the waitress said. "You'll end up dead, just like the rest of them. You need to be told straight. The man's gonna kill you too."

"If he does, then I'll take him to hell with me," she said dangerously. _But he wouldn't, _Carmen thought, _he'd never do that. He said some horrible things, but he'd never hurt me like that. _

Once again, Carmen left in a hurry and drove back up to Mort's cabin, not bothering to take the proper roads. She didn't care about hitting anything, she just needed to get there. She skidded to a halt in front of the house and stalked up to the door with her agenda in mind.

_Shooter's after Mort because Mort took what was his._

She pulled the door open without knocking, and ignored Mort, sitting on the couch with his head his hands. Instead, she headed straight towards the fireplace.

"What are you doing?" Mort asked in complete shock, both at her sudden entrance, and at the large red mark that remained on her face.

She said nothing, just snatching a black, wide-brimmed hat off of the mantelpiece and staring at it.

"Carmen, don't touch that," he said in a dangerously quiet voice. "Put it back."

"You think I'm stupid, don't you?" she said. "But I'm not." Her voice had an eerie, chilled undertone that Mort had never heard before. "I know about Shooter. I know _all _about him. I even know what you think you don't,"

"What are you talking about?" Mort said, his voice quavering. Carmen just turned to face him, her face a mask of calm that was inappropriate for the situation.

"That day where you found your yard had been picked through," she said, nodding slightly as she spoke. "You never found out who did it. Did you?"

"Carmen?" Mort said for lack of anything else to ask,

"Maybe I'm just the perfect criminal," she laughed softly. "But I know what's hiding back there. I know what's buried in the ground, and so do you. You just refuse to remember."

"What?" Mort snapped. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Stop _lying _to yourself, Mort," she said in frustration, "You **are **Shooter. Shooter's in your head, and part of you knows that."

"You've gone crazy," Mort said, shaking his head, but everything she had just thrown felt oddly true.

"I'm not the one who's crazy." Carmen said. She looked down at the hat in her hands. "Maybe, just _maybe _I can help you, though."

"Put that down," Mort said, eyeing the hat fearfully. He was already imagining what Carmen planned to do, yet couldn't bear to think of it.

"_Down_?" she asked, nodding. Without warning, she whirled around and threw it into the crackling fireplace and watched the edges start to curl and billow into ash. "Yeah, down to hell."

They both watched the fire engulf the hat until there was nothing left, and only then did Carmen look at Mort again. He saw that her eyes were glistening brightly in the firelight, but she was trying hard not to let the tears rolls down her cheeks.

"Carmen," he said,, saying her name as though it were something fragile.

"Maybe that was the end," she shrugged. "Maybe you can start all over again now, without Shooter."

"One can only hope," Mort said, trying to force a smile onto his face.

"I guess you don't really need me much anymore," Carmen whispered. The fluttering tone of her voice, however, didn't mask the deafening meaning of what she was saying. Mort reached out and grabbed her hand. She flinched slightly, and he pulled his hand back.

"Are you scared of me now?" he asked. Carmen just shrugged. "I think you're wrong. I need you."

Carmen's eyes shot towards the door desperately, then back Mort. "Please," she begged quietly. "I can't do this anymore. I..."

"Do you really want to leave?" he asked, "Are you willing to leave, knowing that you could've stayed?"

"I want to leave," she said, shaking slightly. "I left the city because I wanted things to be simple, but they're just...not. Daniel Bartlett, the sheriff- -"

"And me?" Mort interrupted. "I know that I'm not making anything in your life easier, Carmen."

"Mort," she said, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "Please, just don't blame yourself. You were right. I need to stop pretending that I'm the only one that matters. I've been an insensitive bitch all this time. I should've realized that everything you're going through is worse than whatever I've had to deal with."

"No," Mort said, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Don't think that, _ever_. Don't take anything I said earlier seriously. That half hour never happened."

Carmen nodded silently, then brought her gaze back up to meet his. "Why didn't you tell me about the sheriff?" she asked quietly. "Why didn't you tell me that he got shot, or that they thought it was you, or...that they thought you'd killed me too?"

"You were so fucking mad at me!" Mort said, feeling a flood of emotion welling up behind his own eyes to match Carmen's. "I didn't think you'd care."

"Well, you're wrong," Carmen said, looking away, back to the fireplace. "I would have cared, Mort."

"Like you care about what happened earlier, right?" he asked. "I know you're not forgetting it."

"I'm trying to," she said sincerely. "I know you didn't mean anything you said earlier. It was just they way everything was said. I understand."

"You're wrong," he said matter-of-factly. "I did mean _one _thing that I said earlier. I really do love you." Carmen stared at him in complete awe, the same way she had earlier, and now, that expression amused him slightly.

She threw her arms around him, and just stood there as he did the same. Then, she pulled back and smiled timidly at him.

"You're not saying it back," He pointed out.

"I..." she paused and looked down to the floor. "I can't. I can't say it yet. Every time I've ever said that I loved someone, everything started going downhill from there. I know _you _wouldn't lie to me, but a lot of other people would, and I can't forget that. I'm not going to say it just for the sake of it being out there. When I _do _say it, it's going to be because I mean it, and because I'm ready."

"I'll wait, then," he said, smiling in comprehension. He knew he still hadn't lost his chance. Something good was finally happening for a change.

"Coffee tomorrow?" Carmen asked hopefully.

"Your place, 9:30," Mort laughed. This was what they said every time they made plans to have coffee in the mornings. It made this whole strange, twisted night keep some kind of normalcy.

Carmen stood slightly on her toes, kissed him quickly on the lips, then walked towards the door. Right before she closed it behind her, she peeped her head back into the door and smiled.

"You've got yourself a date," she laughed. Then, she disappeared into the night.

As soon as Mort heard her car pull away, and he was sure that she couldn't hear, he let out a loud scream of happiness, something he hadn't done in a very long time.

_No more Shooter, no more sheriff...Just Carmen and me. This is how it was supposed to end up._

He didn't plan on the possibility that this wasn't quite the end of the road.

* * *

A/N's

**Dawnie-7: **YES! THE SHERIFF'S DEAD! Muwahahaha. Lovin' it?

**lordoftheringsfanficreader: **VERY good wild guess, haha. Yup, it's another death. Here's a hint. _There'll be at least one more_, and I'll leave it up to you and my other reviewers to guess who.

**punkdpirate: **I haven't really set in stone where I want Shooter to come from _exactly, _but I'll clarify it in the story once I do, so keep reading!

Well, so long for now! Keep 'em reviews coming! Oh yeah, and for anyone reading my PoTC fic, 'The Cutlass Crow', there's an update for that one coming up soon. Be patient, haha


	15. Patching up the Holes

Carmen, quite honestly, was terrified about spending time, just with Mort. It was bound to be awkward, considering all that had just happened. Would he be different, now that Shooter wasn't lurking in the back of his head? What if it was really just Shooter's presence that had drawn her to Mort? What if? What if...

"This is stupid," Carmen muttered to herself, shaking her head vigorously as she walked down the stairs and into the kitchen. "Mort isn't going to be any different. If anything, it'll be me who's different." She glanced up at the clock...9:00. Mort was going to be there in half an hour. She wanted to talk to someone, but couldn't think of any possibilities. She had already taken the liberty the night before to make a three-way call to Mel and Rob, who had both shown a lot of enthusiasm in saying how happy they were.

She _couldn't _call Rob again. She _couldn't._

But she did.

Almost as though it had become a reflex, Carmen didn't notice she was making the call until the phone was already up to her ear, and Rob had already said hello."

"Rob," she said, taking a deep breath, which let him know she was ready to let off a hundred words per minute. "I'm just gonna die right here, right at this spot. I'm gonna fucking explode. I'm a nervous train wreck, and I just _can't _deal with having Mort over here right now!"

"Are you finished?" Rob chuckled as soon as she had paused. She was panting quietly, as though it had taken quite a lot of breath to finish her sentence. "You're just freaking out because you can't plan how this is going to turn out," Rob reasoned. "You can't always avoid the awkward silences, Carmen, Sometimes, you just have to suck it up and barrel through them."

"I can't _barrel through it_," Carmen sighed, "I don't want things to get weird between Mort and me, Rob! I mean, we don't deserve it, right? None of the stuff that has happened is our fault, so why should we get put through all this shit?"

"Listen, I, of all people, agree that you don't deserve any more bullshit from anyone, but the world doesn't give a damn about what you deserve," Rob said chidingly. "You can deal with this."

"You're just saying that because you're used to it," Carmen laughed quietly. "Seven years, you get paid to be my wing man and tell me what I want to hear. It's a hard habit to break."

"Don't give yourself white hairs over this," Rob laughed, "New York doesn't need any more women with bad dye jobs."

"Hanging up now," she chirped in a singsong voice. They laughed again for a minute, and that's exactly what she did.

Regardless of anything she said, Carmen really did feel better after what Rob told her. She went back to getting dressed, feeling a lot lighter.

Nine o'clock rolled around, and, punctual as usual, Mort could be heard clunking heavily up the porch steps, then ringing the doorbell. Carmen shot down the stairs quickly and opened the door, throwing her arms around Mort the minute she could get through.

"Good morning to you too," he laughed, discreetly taking in the scent of her hair. "Definitely a lot more friendly than yesterday."

"Yesterday sucked," Carmen groaned plainly. "Yesterday was the crappiest day I have the misfortune of remembering, and I have half the mind to knock myself across the head with a lamp and give myself amnesia. Again,"

"Thank god for the other half, then," Mort laughed. "Wouldn't want you forgetting our alleged night of...playing adult Monopoly. By the way, you never told me exactly what that game was."

"And I never will!" Carmen laughed, jumping back and socking him lightly on the shoulder. "That's something from _way _back, when I first started working at A-List."

"Ah, back at the _beginning _of your roaring twenties?" Mort laughed.

"I don't _roar,_" Carmen laughed defiantly. "I growl occasionally, but I have yet to _ever _roar at anyone."

"So, when we argue and practically shatter windows," Mort pointed our. "That's just you _purring _a little, right?" That comment earned him another swat on the arm. "Ouch! Can you try to hit more like a girl, please?" he yelped back at her. "I thought we were having another one of our talks over coffee, not a 'beat-up-the poor-innocent-boyfriend' shindig."

"_Poor innocent boyfriend_?" Carmen scoffed. "When have I ever had one of those?" Mort crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at her.

"You haven't exactly been the ideal damsel in distress either, missy," he said, faking a look of annoyance.

"And what, pray tell," Carmen asked, cocking her head to the side, "Is so ideal about me being in distress?"

"Because then the _dainty _girl, namely you, would keel over and faint," Mort began, "And then her tall dark, and insanely handsome boyfriend, that being me, would sweep said damsel off her feet,"

"Yes, well, that's all really _cute,_" Carmen laughed. "But I can walk all on my own, and I don't _need _to be swept off of my feet."

"You proved that yesterday," Mort said, smiling weakly. "It sort of makes me wonder why you hang around me still. You don't a guy to take care of you,"

"Mort, just stop talking like that, all right?" she said, simply, holding up her hand, "I know how to take care of myself. I won't deny that, because it's something you just need to realize. But relationships aren't just about _taking care of _each other."

"I'll be honest," Mort said, "Call me an old fogey, but I'm still stuck in the past. I think that the guy should be the one the girl relies on, and _yeah_, I'm threatened by the fact that you're doing just as well with your life as I am, if not better."

"You know that I'm not going to stop the way my life runs," she said simply.

"Yeah, I _do _know," Mort nodded. He glanced out the window. "How about we go out for a walk?" Carmen nodded, inadvertently picking up a piece of paper from the table and stuffing it into her back pocket. and they both just stepped out the door. They made it for ten minutes without saying anything, seeing as there was nothing to be said.

"I guess I should tell you now," Carmen said suddenly, just as they were standing by the lake. Mort looked at her oddly. "Mort, do you believe in magic?"

"What?" Mort asked. "What kind of question is that? Like, pulling a rabbit out of a hat?"

"No," Carmen said quietly, "Like, _real _magic, like curses, and witches. I know it sounds stupid, but..." she pulled the rumpled piece of paper out of her pocket and showed it to him. It was a printout of the article about John Shooter.

"So Shooter was real?" Mort asked. "But this says he died in..."

"1985," Carmen nodded, supplying the end to his sentence. "But swore that no one would ever take what was his. I guess maybe...I don't know."

"Why didn't you tell me before?" Mort asked. Carmen looked away and sighed.

"I couldn't," Carmen said. "You know how you said you had a dream about Shooter? Well, So did I. More than once," she wrung her hands nervously. "The first time was...well, Shooter told me you were hiding something in your yard. That's why I went snooping, that day when you found the corn field dug up...Mort, your wife's body is down there."

Mort gaped at her in awe, feeling himself starting to choke. "Amy?" he managed to sputter out. Carmen nodded. Mort shook his head. "All right," he said, rolling his shoulders and looking at Carmen resolutely. "When else did you have the dreams?"

"After the accident, while I was in the hospital," Carmen said, feeling her skin start to erupt in goose bumps at the mere memory of the dream. "Shooter said that I couldn't tell you about any of it, or else something would happen."

Mort nodded. He knew what it was like to have Shooter demand something and refuse to accept failure to comply. Instead of feeling betrayed, as he had earlier, he now felt even more respect for the woman in front of him.

"I'm sorry," Carmen asked. "Maybe if I hadn't been so scared, and if I had just told Shooter to shove his threats up his ass, last night never would have happened."

'The sheriff," Mort said, seemingly out of nowhere. "I guess you know about him?"

Carmen nodded silently and looked straight into Mort's eyes. "Was it you?" she asked, bracing herself for the answer that she was fully expecting.

"It might have been," Mort said, feeling utterly humiliated.

"But they won't ever pin it on you," Carmen said confidently. "They ruled it out as a closed case."

"How?" Mort asked hopelessly. "All they had for evidence was a gun in the man's own hand."

"And a suicide note," Carmen said. Mort stared at here again, now just in confusion. "I took it to the police station, and I told them that I found it snooping around the sheriff's office...only, I wrote it. I mean, all I had to do was type it and forage a signature. You're home free."

"No!" Mort groaned fiercely. "Carmen, why do you keep throwing yourself into this? I don't want you to get in trouble over this."

"Well, it's too late to do anything," Carmen said, crossing her arms and standing still, letting the morning breeze hit her in the face. "It's the last time I do something this stupid, I promise. I just want...I want you to have a chance to start over."

Mort looked at her silently, analyzing her every feature. Then, he put his hands on her face and kissed her, letting go off all that he had been trying to tell her since the moment they met.

Carmen pulled back, short of breath and red in the face. She smiled, and then looked downward.

"I _am _starting over," Mort said reassuringly. "Thanks to you, I guess,"

"I don't think I deserve so much credit for that," Carmen said timidly. "I mean, if you weren't willing to let me do any of it in the first place, you never would have gotten anywhere."

"_You _have got to stop being so modest. Be cocky. Come on, shoulders back, and strut!" he laughed. Carmen hit him playfully on the shoulder.

"So," Carmen asked, "Have you written anything good lately?"

"_Written, _yeah," Mort shrugged, looking out over the water. "I still think it's all crap, though. I've been so wrapped up in my crappy life lately, I can't get anything out of this brain except people yelling at each other."

"Maybe you can get something better now," Carmen shrugged. "I mean, the tension's gone, you don't have Shooter telling you to write about corn, and things are starting to clear up." Carmen smiled, "Look, I don't want you to be threatened by me anymore. I want you to come out with the masterpiece of your career, and when that sells, you'll be the one with all the money."

"Are you telling me to leave, just to go sit in front of my computer?" Mort asked, smirking. Carmen nodded.

"I want you to start being proud of yourself again," she said simply, "I'm not gonna have _all _of you until you are, and I'm not going to settle for just half of you,"

"You mean, you don't want to see me until I've gotten something down that I don't consider crap," Mort nodded in understanding. "All right, I got it," He smiled, kissed her on the cheek and walked back to his car. Carmen sighed and ran her hand through her hair.

Once she heard Mort drive away, she walked back to the house and sat down on the couch, slumping terribly. Maybe she had said the wrong thing, telling Mort to just leave. Truth is, she _wanted _him there. She just wanted _all _of him there. She knew that she should just accept that he'd never really be _there, _but she also knew that she was a demanding person, and wouldn't just settle for what could be more.

She wasn't a patient person, but she would wait.

* * *

**punkdpirate: **Yeah, Mort still had some of Shooter in him, but Shooter's hat is all burnt to a crisp, so we're in the clear..for now.

**lordoftheringsfanficreader: **Ding dong, the Wicked Sheriff is dead! Haha, I'm so evil for doing it, but writing that he was dead put a smile on my face. And if you like arguments and fighting and such, there'll be more to come, haha.

**Dawnie-7: **Not quite an _ending, _per se. Just a hiatus in the chaos.

**blackcharityflint: **Haha, seems the sheriff isn't universally popular!

Well, the next few chapters are going to either be a little silly, or soap-opera-ish. Sorry! But the serious stuff comes back eventually.


	16. What Do You Propose?

Disclaimer: I own my original characters...they just can't stay away! haha

* * *

Mel and Rob were meeting for coffee after having spoken to Carmen the night before. They sat in the café, not sure how to start talking about Carmen. They didn't know her in the same ways. Rob knew about her in the past, and Mel knew her _now_. But they needed to talk about what was going on with her. Neither of them could really tell what to think of how she talked to them.

"I think she's stressing herself to death," Mel said bluntly. "She's gonna just fall asleep one night and never wake up if she keeps going like this."

"She's worried about that _guy_," Rob said, "Mort just isn't cutting it yet. I mean, I can tell she loves him, even she won't admit it, but he's not doing something right,"

"He's still not taking the relationship seriously, that's what!" Mel snapped. "Sure, he's the one who said he loved her, but every girl knows that those words come out of a guy's mouth as easy as the score of last night's football game."

"So what do you think the guy should do?" Rob asked, "I mean, if he doesn't take things seriously, there's no chance that it's gonna last, right?"

"It can," Mel said, drumming her fingers impatiently on the table. "If he _starts _taking it seriously, then it stands a chance."

"Well, how can he take it seriously if he doesn't even try?" Rob asked. "I mean, I'm worried to fucking hell about Carmen. It looks like she's just in another dead-end relationship, and she's just desperately telling herself that it's going somewhere!"

"You don't see the connection, do you?" Mel asked. "I mean, you see what Mort has to do, don't you?"

"Stand outside of Carmen's window and break into the chorus of 'My Girl' with flowers and all that?" Rob shrugged. Mel rolled her eyes.

"You don't know shit about girls," she said, shaking her head. "He doesn't have to pull a stunt. Guys expect a stunt to prove a girl's heart. Girls expect _commitment_."

"Commitment?" Rob snapped, practically knocking over his chair. "Melanie, you can't possibly think that they should get married."

"Well, I do," Mel snapped back. "I mean, it's not just a stunt, Rob! Mort and Carmen have gone through hell just to stay together, and this is just the final thing they need to keep them together, or they will _never _prove anything to each other."

"We're talking about Carmen," Rob said, shaking his head skeptically. "I mean, this isn't just because she wouldn't marry _me_, but I just can't imagine her sticking around one guy too long. Trying to imagine her spending the rest of her life with _Mort _just seems laughable if you look at it."

"From a logical point of view, yes," Mel said, "But this world is a screwy place, Rob. Usually, just the opposite of what you expect is what's going to happen."

"This is pointless," Rob shrugged, 'Why should we even discuss something like this? Truth is, what we think about the situation doesn't make any difference, because those two are too had-headed to do what either of us think they should,"

"Oh, _hello_," Mel said, rolling her eyes, "That was the _longest _sentence I have ever actually understood, and it just happened to be full of bullshit. You don't see what's gotta be done, do you?"

"If it was my choice," Rob said, "I'd hit them both across the head, and then I'd let them fight it out."

"Do you _ever _come up with any ideas that won't lead to the end of the world?" Mel said exaggeratedly. "No wonder you still need to call Carmen to help with your job!"

"All right, fine, miss master-of-business-AND-romance," Rob snapped sarcastically. "What do you propose we do about the Carmen/Mort situation, eh?"

"Propose!" Mel said brightly, putting her hands up in glee. "That's _exactly _it!"

"We're gonna propose to them?" Rob asked in confusion. "I thought the point of this was to try to keep those two together."

"Don't you get it?" Mel said in exasperation, "We go down there, and instead of visiting Carmen, we make goddamn sure she doesn't see us, and go see Mort instead! When we're there, we convince him to propose to Carmen, and then we've put all the pieces back together!"

"That's insane," Rob muttered, shaking his head. "It's never going to work, Mel,"

"And give me one reason why not," she retorted, looking slightly affronted.

"What have they got?" Rob asked simply. "What have those two ever _done _to prove that they could make a marriage out of their relationship? I mean, I've _told _you what Carmen's found out about Mort, and about that John Shooter guy. I think she's insane already for still hanging around."

"Rob, you're **such **an unsentimental idiot," Mel said in disappointment. "That, or you have amnesia. First of, Carmen's a very forgiving person- -remember when you two were together, and you ran that short blurb in one of the issues that she was a slut, just because you got into an argument the night before?"

"It wasn't even a blurb!" Rob replied defensively, "It was just a short reference to her in one of the articles that she somehow didn't catch, and the readers blew it **completely **out of proportion, and Carmen got letters telling her that she should fire me for it, so- -"

"WHATEVER!" Mel snapped, "But did she dump you _for that_? I would have hated you for the rest of my life, and run a whole article about how you still sleep with a security blanket- -"

"Excuse me?" Rob said, raising an eyebrow, but looking slightly uncomfortable.

"Oh, don't deny it," Mel said. "Carmen and I have some girl-talk once in a while. Word gets around. Anyhow, I would have done something **horrible **to get back at you, but do you remember what she did."

"Yes," Rob said resignedly, "But you're still going to remind me, so _please_, go ahead,"

"Damn right I am," Mel nodded. "Her next editorial was all about how _great _her boyfriend was at the time. Now _that _is forgiving."

"All right, do you have another point besides making me feel _really _stupid?" Rob asked.

"Duh," Mel said matter-of-factly. "That whole 'Shooter' thing is over, whatever it was. Carmen told me all about what happened. Don't think you're the only one in the world she confides in. Anything that really stood in the way of Carmen and Mort's relationship, or put Carmen in danger, is gone now."

"They're not going to fall for it, whatever we try to do," Rob said. "And they definitely won't go through with it. I mean, Mort probably won't want to get married. Carmen told you about his ex-wife?"

"People get remarried all the time," Mel said. "Sure, I'm kind of iffy about this guy, Mort, too. I mean, I haven't even met him. But I can tell by the way Carmen talks about him, and worries about him, and cries when they're in a fight, that they are _definitely _marriage material."

"No way," Rob said, grimacing slightly, "You're not going to make me go through with this!"

* * *

"I can't believe you made me go through with this," Rob said. Now, he was sitting in the passenger seat of his own car while Mel was driving it up to Tashmore Lake. "Tell me again why I couldn't drive? I know the way,"

"Because," Mel said confidently, "First, I'm more excited about this than you are. Second, you'd probably try to turn around and chicken out, and I'll be damned if I even let you try to ruin my plan."

"Quoth the evil genius," Rob muttered under his breath. Mel took one of her hands off of the steering wheel and cuffed him on the head, then went back to driving without another word. "What are we going to do, put a gun to the guy's head and force him to propose?"

"We'll talk him into it," Mel said casually. "Watch, I bet he's been thinking about it anyway. I mean, this is Carmen. I bet she could charm _Hitler _into liking her if she had the chance,"

"But to get _married_?" Rob said. "I don't think it's been nearly long enough,"

"Aw, come on, Rob! Don't you know the first thing about romance?" Mel sighed at the wheel. "As far as time goes, girls go for _quality_, not _quantity_."

"Well, I don't know what I have to say about the _quality _of the time those two have been together either," Rob retorted. "Carmen's gotten lost in the woods, put in the hospital, driven halfway out of her mind, forced to party with you and your crazy roommates, lied to the police, and done who knows what else! How's _that _for quality?"

"She's also happier, and she acts _younger_," Mel said, "I mean, she acts her age when she's having a good time with him! She loves the guy!"

"You've got about five minutes before it's too late to turn the car around," Rob said, looking out the window at the surrounding area. "What do you really plan to say to the guy?"

"I'm gonna tell him that he's just **got **to get serious with Carmen, before she gives up on him!" Mel said in exasperation. "Rob, you **must **see what I mean, right?"

"Are you gonna hold Mort at gunpoint and demand that he shell out his lifesavings to get her a ring?" Rob asked, practically just paraphrasing his question from earlier. Mel didn't bother to answer.

They had just arrived at Mort's house, and she stepped out of the car. Rob followed her quickly, trying to talk her out of it in a controlled whisper as she bounded up to Mort's door. Unfortunately, Rob wasn't as persuasive as he could have been, and Mel was eventually knocking on the door. Mort opened it and looked at them in confusion. He recognized Rob, but not the woman he was with.

"Um, can I help you?" he asked hesitantly.

"Mort Rainey?" Mel asked. He nodded, and Mel held out her hand, giving him a hearty handshake. "I'm Melanie Carter, one of Carmen's friends."

"Oh," Mort said, still looking confused. "Is there something wrong with Carmen?"

"Actually, I wanted to ask you the same question," Mel said, crossing her arms and stepping on Rob's foot as a hint that he should keep quiet. "I mean, are you really serious about her?"

"Are you kidding?" Mort asked, "God, if you knew anything about us, then you wouldn't even have to ask. We've been through so much hell, I'd be crazy if I wasn't serious about this,"

"So what's taking you so long?" Mel asked matter-of-factly. "It almost looks like you two are _never _gonna get married. I mean, are you ever planning on popping the question- -"

"What?" Mort spat abruptly. He looked around evasively and gulped cautiously. "Well, yeah, actually. Of course I've thought about it. Carmen's too great for me not to think about it."

"Aw!" Mel cooed excitedly, "You love her! Why don't you ask her already? Come on, we'll take you into down so you can pick up a ring." Mel smirked victoriously over her shoulder at Rob.

"Yeah," Rob said, smiling in spite of the situation. 'We'll take my car…only, Mel's going to be driving it."

"Actually,' Mort began, cutting them off. "I've been thinking about this more than you give me credit for. " He reached towards the table by the door and opened a small box briefly in their direction. "Just biding my time, I guess,"

"But you're serious about this, right?" Rob asked finally finding his voice as Mort invited them inside. "You're not just _intrigued _by Carmen? I mean, she's taken enough crap from guys- -"

"Quit scaring the guy, Rob!" Mel said stiffly. "Look, we're happy for you…but the _real _question is what's taking you so long?"

"I'm not sure if she'd say yes," Mort shrugged. "It seems like ever since that big fight we had when she came back from New York, she's just been pushing me away. I mean, I'm thinking about asker her to marry me, but it's like she's thinking about breaking it off."

"I don't think so." Mel said confidently, "She' s talked to me nearly every day in these past two weeks, and she'd have said something if she felt like there were problems between you two."

"Maybe not," Rob said analytically, "She _does _have a tendency to lie and keep secrets when she thinks that something's going wrong."

"Would you just stop being so pessimistic?" Mel snapped back, glaring at Rob, "She doesn't have to say everything directly, because _I _know how to read people. I can tell by the sound of her voice when she's worried about something." She looked back at Mort. "Excuse me, I think I need to drag Rob outside for a few minutes and give him a piece of my mind," she laughed weakly, grabbing Rob by the sleeve, pulling him out the door, and closing the door.

"You think you know everything, don't you?" Rob groaned, "_I _know Carmen better than you do, and I _know _that she wouldn't just make it obvious that she was having trouble."

"You barely even really talk to her anymore!" Mel said heatedly, "And when you do, you act like you're under the delusion that she is **never **going to have a serious relationship again!"

"That's not true," Rob huffed dismissively. "I just don't think it'd be with someone like Mort."

"Then who?" Mel asked, "Someone like you?"

"Yeah, probably," Rob said, "Not _necessarily **me, **_but I think that she'd have a better chance at holding onto someone like me."

"She has no problem _holding on _to relationships, Rob," Mel stated, "It's the guys she ends up with that screw up and decide they can't handle her. But look at Mort! I mean- -" she lowered her voice, "Carmen has told both of us about the crazy things that she's been through with Mort, and she _still _wants to be with him. _He _still wants to be with _her_. Now, do you have the goddamn balls to tell me that what they've got isn't love?"

Rob lowered his head and exhaled slowly. Mel had a point. He nodded slowly. "All right, let's get this guy to give Carmen the rock." Mel squealed loudly and impulsively hugged Rob.

"I **knew **you weren't stupid!" she laughed, jumping back. They walked back into the house.

"So," Rob nodded, "Are you going to give her that ring or not?"

Rob and Mel gave him one more meaningful look, nodded in salutation, and left.

Mort sat down on the couch once he was alone in the house, place the small velvet box on the coffee table, and just stared at it.

"Do I do it?" he muttered to himself. "I can't…if she doesn't say yes…"

He couldn't think of what to do. It didn't seem possible. Carmen was…great. But she had done too much for him already. If Mort asked _this _of her…

"If she says no," Mort muttered to himself in a rather grim expression of acceptance. "I'll die."

* * *

A/N's

Dude, Mel likes to poke into others people's business. That can get a little annoying, huh?

**lordoftheringsfanficreader: **Yes, someone else is going to die, but it won't be someone you've grown extremely close to in the story...hopefully. And this was the silly chapter. the overly dramatic, "soap-opera-type" chapter may be the next one...I think

**Dawnie-7: **Well, it's true. Carmen's changing, and growing up. But I sorta think she was more fun when she was immature...hmm...haha, well, too late to turn back now.

**punkdpirate: **Haha, true. soap operas have the silliest material of any kind of media, right?

**IwantMortRainey'sHair: **Glued to the screen? Aww shucks! ::blushes:: Keep reviewing!

Ciao, friends! Hopefully, the next chapter comes faster! Sorry for the wait!


	17. Black Coffee

Oh dear. It's been a month since I last update this story. I feel awful! Well, in case anyone needs reminding, I only own Carmen, Rob, and Mel.

* * *

Carmen was sitting on the couch with a green ballpoint pen tucked behind her ear, and a legal-sized yellow notepad resting on her knee. She stared intently at the paper, and the barely legible words she had scribbled at the top. 

**Mort Rainey: Pros & Cons**

Sure, she knew that writing 'the list' came off as a sign of a failing relationship, but that was just in movies and TV sitcoms. She _needed _a little bit of logic in her position. After all this time, she realized that she hadn't thought at all about the future. For once, she hadn't planned her steps ahead of time. She just didn't feel like herself. She was running around like a chicken with its head cut off, dodging problems instead of facing them.

She decided to start with the cons. Honesty was the best policy…or at least it was better than no policy at all. She twirled the pen around her fingers, and resolved to burn the list once she had finished.

**-Don't know too much about him**

**-Can't predict him**

**-Scared of commitment?**

Carmen paused, then wrote down the one thing she hadn't realized up until then. Her hand shook while she wrote it, and the penmanship, consequently, was horribly skewed, but the point came across nonetheless.

**-Can I really trust him?**

She ran her hand through her hair and crossed that sentence out passionately, practically running a hole through the paper. She _could _trust him. She _did _trust him. But there was still the issue of commitment. In a few years, Carmen's twenties would be over, and she just wouldn't be as young as she was now. She hated thinking about getting older, but it was inevitable. She felt like her biological clock was running out.

"It's way too early to be going through a midlife crisis," she said, looking up at the calendar. She wouldn't be turning twenty-eight for about six months, and she was already starting to feel like…an old spinster lady.

She was ready to rip the calendar off of the wall and throw it into the fireplace when there was a knock on the door. She knew right away it was Mort, because lately, he had always knocked in the rhythm of the theme to _Pink Panther_.

"Coming," she said loudly, laughing as she walked over. She opened the door, and rolled her eyes, not letting the grin fade from her face. "You're a lifesaver. You always manage to show up before I decide to try to break something."

"Lucky me," he smiled, "Listen, you wanna go out for a boatride?"

"A _boatride_?" Carmen asked in disbelief. "You mean in that rowboat you had tied up near your house? That thing must be from the Revolutionary war. You know, I bet it's the boat Washington used to cross the Delaware--"

"So, you've seen the old relic. I dragged it out here. It's right outside," he said. Carmen's jaw popped open slightly, and he laughed at the expression. "You've gotta live a little. I mean, it's not like the boat's going to tip over. Besides, you can swim, right?"

"You want me to ride in _that_?" She asked, looking over Mort's shoulder and pointing at the tiny boat in the water. Mort nodded simply. Carmen sighed quietly. "All right, but don't say that I've never done anything for you."

The two strolled out hand-in-hand, but were not walking very close. Carmen seemed slightly uncomfortable, and Mort seemed jumpy and nervous. He helped her get into the small wooden rowboat, then stepped in himself, slipping slightly on the slick sand on the ground.

"Where to, Mort Rainey?" Carmen giggled as Mort picked up the oars and started rowing them out to the middle of the lake. Mort raised an eyebrow at her.

"That's _Captain _Mort Rainey," he laughed haughtily. "And I'm in charge of this ship, thank you very much."

"Of course," Carmen said sarcastically. For a while, she just looked downward and played with her hand in the water as Mort got them out to right in the middle of the water.

"All right, this is where we stop," Mort said, laying the oars down. Carmen looked up.

"It's a little pointless stopping where there's no land," she said matter-of-factly. "I couldn't get off of this boat if I tried."

"That's the idea," Mort said simply. "I want to make sure you don't wanna run away when I ask you this."

"Um, all right," Carmen said, squirming slightly.

Mort leaned forward towards Carmen with his hands fidgeting nervously in his pocket. "Look, you know that I love you, right?"

"Yeah," Carmen said quietly. "I mean, you could say it in those exact words more often, but I know."

"Look, the last thing I want to do is tie you down," Mort said, "And I don't want you to feel like I'm trying to cut off the prime of your life or whatever, but I've gotta do this." His hand came out of his pocket and pulled out the small velvet box. Carmen's eyes went wide as he opened the top to reveal a modest, but nonetheless beautiful diamond ring.

"Mort?" Carmen said quietly, letting her gaze flicker momentarily towards his face.

"Marry me?" he asked earnestly. Carmen's mouth moved silently a few times, unable to think of anything. She looked away for a while, then back at Mort.

"Yeah," she said breathlessly. Mort smiled, and let out a breath he had been holding for a long time, then put the ring on Carmen's finger. She looked down at the ring, then cleared her throat. "You didn't let me finish,"

"What?" Mort asked.

"I'll marry you on one condition," Carmen said. She looked over into the water, and smirked. "You've got to catch me first." She jumped into the water and swam towards the shore.

Mort stared after her in disbelief. "Fucking free spirit," he said with a slight laugh as he tucked the box into his jacket pocket and jumped in after her.

The girl was a fast swimmer, but this was more than even a matter of life and death. It was a matter of love. Once she got back to the shore, Mort was right behind her, and he grabbed her from behind and tackled her playfully into the sand.

"Looks like I win," Mort laughed, looking down at her. "Where's my prize?"

"Right here," she smiled, rolling so he was lying down on his back and kissing him, all the while absently running her thumb over the ring on her finger.

They pulled apart and laughed as their wet shirts clung together. Carmen shook her head, showering Mort with droplets of water, and ran up to the house laughing.

"We've gotta go somewhere!" she called out from her porch. "We need to celebrate!"

"Anything you say," Mort laughed out loud. "Meet you right here in twenty?"

"Sounds good!" she smiled warmly as she went inside. Mort walked back towards his car, completely aware of the goofy smile on his face.

_She's gorgeous right after she's jumped into a lake_.

"I thought that for myself, thanks," he said resolutely. He wouldn't need _that _voice to talk to again. He had Carmen, now. He was going to marry her now, and it was for sure.

He had never envisioned himself in this position again, not after what had happened with Amy, and now he was just pleasantly numb all the way home. He knew how much Carmen would hate it, but he was already planning out the rest of their lives. They'd live in his house…they'd rip out that cornfield, together, and just start over. There'd be no unwelcome guests, no haunting past…just them, and whatever they chose to face together.

And Carmen…there were no words to describe what she was feeling. She was torn between jumping up in the air and screaming it to the mountains that she had _finally _found someone, and just fainting.

"Married?" She sighed dreamily, looking at her reflection. "You're getting married? Now _that's _a kick in the head." She looked down at the ring on her finger. It was simple- -no clusters of dramatic jewels around the band, just that single, clear diamond in the center…it was just like their relationship. Like black coffee.

No sweeteners added, it was pure, and potent. At times, it was less than perfect, less than sweet, but somehow always satisfying.

"No way," Carmen laughed to herself. "Time for a pep talk." She reached over for the phone and dialed Mel's cell phone hurriedly. Carmen waited anxiously for Mel to pick up…

Only it was Rob's voice answering. "Hello?" he asked.

"Rob?" Carmen asked. "What are you doing with Mel's cell phone?"

"Oh, I'm just over at her place," he said quickly.

"Ya-huh," Carmen said suspiciously, "And why?"

"Work stuff," Rob said, clearing his throat, "Uh…Mel was in the bathroom, and now she's back, so…go ahead and talk."

"Thanks," Carmen laughed.

"Hi," Mel said, giggling slightly, sounding like she was a child who had just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

"Guess who's got a rock!" Carmen said, immediately biting her lip. That had sounded _so _juvenile.

"FINALLY!" Mel shrieked, squealing so loudly that Carmen had to pull the receiver away from her ear. "I _knew _it! It's about time!"

"Oh, ruin the moment, would you?" Carmen bit back sarcastically. "But can you believe it? Me?"

"Going down the aisle!" Mel squealed. "Stealing the spotlight from me! Now everyone's gonna forget that _I'm _the one having a baby!"

"Oh, right!" Carmen said. She felt guilty for a minute for having forgotten. "Anyhow, I just thought I'd tell you. But just imagine! Can you imagine me actually getting married? It's almost laughable, right?"

"Aw, the bride-to-be's getting jitters already!" she laughed. "That's so sweet! You two are gonna be just fine, now that…" Mel trailed off. She knew that talking about Shooter or Haley would just ruin the moment. "Now that all of those problems you guys had are a thing of the past,"

"Yeah," Carmen said dreamily. "But I mean, what if _I _end up having kids? They'll grow up together, and wear cute clothes and all that stuff,"

"One step at a time, missy," Mel laughed. "Well, I bet you want to get back to thinking about your _fiancé_," she taunted. "I'll leave you alone now."

"All right," Carmen laughed. "Bye!" she clapped her phone shut.

Carmen ran upstairs and got changed out of her wet clothes, thinking hard about what was really happening. It had come to this point so fast. She'd barely known Mort a few months. She wasn't at all sure what had motivated her to accept his proposal, only that it was the only thought that ran through her mind. She hadn't for a second considered turning him down, not after all they had gotten through together.

After everything they had done dealing with Shooter, it would be a crime for them to not be together.

Carmen finished getting ready and sat outside on her porch waiting until Mort arrived to pick her up.

"Well!" he laughed, sticking his head out the window of his car. "I didn't even have to knock this time!"

"Thought I'd wait up for _you _for a change!" she smiled, running over and hopping into the passenger seat.

The night really held nothing eventful. The two were out, driving in the woods, being silent most of the time, sharing the occasional glance. It seemed that no words could encapsulate the immensity of the moment.

"I think you should take my last name," Mort said, seemingly out of nowhere as they sat in the back seat, looking up at the sky after having parked out in a clear spot to look at the stars. Carmen craned her neck around and smirked.

"Should I really?" she asked. "You think it rolls off the tongue quite as easily?"

"Carmen Rainey," Mort said pensively, "Rolls easily enough."

"I sort of wonder sometimes," Carmen laughed. "Why doesn't a guy ever change his name?"

"Because it makes us men feel better about ourselves," he laughed, nuzzling his face into her hair. "Especially guys like me, who end up with _perfect _women."

"Good answer. You know, I just might keep you," she laughed, kissing him on the lips.

"Keep me as long as you like," he laughed. "I love you…"

No use, Carmen had already fallen asleep, nestled into his side.

* * *

A/N's 

Uh huh, isn't that cute? So fluffy....and they're engaged. You know what that means? Mort belongs to me!!...I mean, Carmen. Yeah, he belongs to _Carmen_. ::wink::

**smeagol's girl: **haha, I know, nearly a month after your review, I update. Not exactly soon, right?

**ortain**: Don't worry, the action's just around the corner. This is just the calm before the storm.

**The lady of the shadows: **Well, Carmen said yes! So, there's no need for anyone to die, I believe!

**over-dramatic-05: **Hopefully, Carmen can handle herself now that Mort's thinking of marriage, yes?

**lordoftheringsfanficreader: **Yes, Rob and Mel make a good duo as far as entertainment is concerned, don't they? And don't worry, Mort's gonna give it his all. ::wink::

**punkdpirate: **YAY! haha, I know, Mort doesn't seem characterized as a very sentimental guy, but it's possible, right?

**Dawnie-7: **Oh yeah, Carmen knows a whole lot better than to say no to Mort, especially on something this big

**IwantMortRainey'shair: **::high five:: Oh _yeah! _They're getting hitched, tying the knot, GETTING MARRIED! Haha. and no, you're not annoying at all! haha.

Until later, you guys! You'd better bother me to update again soon, lest it take **another**month.

If you wish to bother me on AIM, my screenname is high0nk0olaid.

Ciao dolls!


	18. Inevitable

Disclaimer: Rob, Carmen, and Mel all belong to my twisted little mind.

* * *

Sadly enough, Carmen wasn't superhuman. She was just another woman, and went through that certain hormonal week per month, just as any other. 

It had been a month since she had accepted Mort's proposal, and she hadn't seen him right now for five days, seeing as he had suddenly been writing more. He kept all of his work under wraps, but Carmen left him to it, knowing that it had been quite a while since he had gotten such a high off of his writing.

Right now, Carmen was feeling particularly down, and experiencing a rather sad round of cramps.

She had resigned herself to sitting on couch in her pajamas with a bag of Cheetos, watching chick flicks.

_When you think you're attracted to someone, it's just your subconscious attracted to their subconscious…subconsciously._

"That is _so _funny," she said to herself, crunching down on another handful of Cheetos. "And _so _weird."

It was then that her phone rang. She picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Carmen you need to get your butt over here," Rob panted on the other end. "It's serious. Get in your car, right now, and I'll explain on the way."

"All right, all right," she said, slipping on a random pair of tennis shoes and rushing out the door. As soon as she had started her car, she started talking to Rob again, having kept her phone propped on her shoulder. "Rob, you're hyperventilating or something. Tell me what the hell is going on before I freak out."

"It's Mel," he said shakily. "Melanie's in the hospital."

"WHAT?" Carmen snapped, her foot hitting the gas pedal tremendously, jolting her slightly forward. Still, she drove on, unfazed. "Rob, what the hell? Is she okay? Oh my god- -"

"Mel's gonna be fine," Rob said, "She's fine, okay? But she's fucking scared, Carmen. We need you here- -"

"What do you want me to do, teleport? I'm already breaking the damn speed limit, Rob," she said in annoyance. "What the hell happened?" she repeated.

"She got into a car accident," he said. "She won't tell me anything. She says she won't tell anyone until she's talked to you first. She needs to talk to you, or else we'll never know, Carmen."

"Oh yeah, so no pressure, right?" she snapped sarcastically. "God, why do these things have to keep happening?"

"She needs to talk to you, and she needs to talk to you soon," Rob said urgently. "I don't care if you have to cut across the cow pastures, or whatever the hell they have out there. You need to get your butt over here, Carmen."

"What does she want to talk to me for?" Carmen asked, her throat already starting to lock up. "Rob, what's wrong? I thought you said she was okay."

"It's the baby," Rob said. "She lost the baby."

Carmen let out a gasp, and unintentionally hit the gas hard once again, propelling her just as far forward as before. "No," she said quietly, not slowing down after that initial burst of speed. "Rob, no, that's not funny."

"I'm not joking," he said stonily. "Carmen, we need you here as soon as you can get here, or else she won't tell us what happened."

"I'm trying," Carmen said in a hoarse, desperate whisper. "That's all I can promise, okay? I'm just…Rob, I'm trying. I'm hanging up now, but I'll call you when I'm close by. Stay close to Mel."

"You know I will," Rob said, right before hanging up.

Carmen drove more recklessly than she had since…ever. She was officially worried sick about Mel, and _very _confused about Rob, for a reason she couldn't quite place.

She soon found herself shaking horribly at the wheel, and knew that it definitely wasn't a good thing to keep going like she was. She stopped at a gas station, picked up a bottle of water, and calmed herself down as much as she could before starting the car up again. Behind the wheel, Carmen seemed practically on autopilot. All she cared about was getting to the city as quickly as she could, even if it meant mowing down whatever stood in her way. She didn't care ho many drivers she pissed off, how many police cars may have been around at any point in time.

It was an hour before she found herself right at the outskirts of the city. She picked up her phone and called Rob, who picked up his phone quickly.

"I'm almost there," Carmen said timidly. "Has she said anything else?"

"She says she's not spilling a thing until you get here," Rob said, "She only wants to have to tell the story once."

"Damn it," Carmen muttered. She was pulling up near the hospital now. "Room number?"

"Room 713," Rob said, "It's on the fourth floor."

Carmen hurried to get to the hospital room and flinched when she saw Mel lying in a bed. She looked like she had been crying for hours, and she was awfully bruised.

"Aw, honey," Carmen said quietly, walking over and grabbing Mel's hand. "I'm so sorry. I thought the only time I'd see you in the hospital was when you had the baby- -"

"Carmen, it was _him,_" Mel said frantically. "You've gotta believe me, it was him!"

"Honey, calm down," Carmen said. "What are you talking about?"

"Mort did it!" Mel whispered conspiratorially. "I swear, it was him! He jumped out in front of the car and made me swerve out of the way…and I hit the fence…and…and…Carmen, I swear, I wouldn't lie--"

"Calm down," Carmen said, unsure of how to react. "Mel, Mort was at his house, working on a story- -"

"No, Carmen, you've got to believe me!" she said desperately, tears flowing down her face. "Carmen! I'm not going crazy! It was Mort! I saw him!"

"Mel, I know this shouldn't have happened," Carmen said in a soothing, but rather patronizing tone, "and I know that you're trying to find a reason why it did, but Mort- -"

"No! Don't try to confuse me!" Mel said, sitting up. It was then that Rob came into the room.

"What's wrong?" he said, rushing over to stand near the two girls. Both of them looked at him, and it was a complete toss-up as to which woman he'd be more obliged to believe.

"Mel says that Mort caused her accident," Carmen said uncomfortably. "Rob, please, just tell her that she's not thinking straight, and once everything clears up, she'll realize how untrue it is!"

"It wasn't just that!" Mel said. "I know it was him! He was…he was wearing that ugly ripped bathrobe you told me about- -"

"Mort would never go out in public wearing that thing," Carmen snapped. "You must've seen someone else that looked like him. Honey, it's gonna be okay- -"

"There's something wrong with him!" Mel said loudly. "You thought you helped him but you didn't! He's going to kill you, Carmen! Get away from him, or he'll kill you just like he killed my baby, and like he tried to kill _me_! Just like he killed his wife, and the sheriff- -"

"Be quiet!" Carmen said, her eyes widening, "Mel, people are gonna hear you!"

"They should hear me," she replied in a lower tone. "They should know what he's done. And people should know how you've been covering it all up."

"Mort didn't do this," Carmen said resolutely. "I know you don't know him, and you have no reason to trust him, but _I _do, and I can't believe this."

"Why?" Mel snapped. "Why is it so hard to accept? Why are you reacting like this, unless it's because you know it might be true?"

Both women looked at Rob, who was deep in thought.

"Carmen," he said stonily. "I think maybe…maybe Mort has a problem, all right? Something's wrong with him, and even though I know you're trying, you can't just make it go away. You can only do so much."

"No," Carmen said, her eyes welling up as she wrapped her arms around herself. "No, I stopped all of this, I know it. I thought it was over. Everything stopped. Why would it start again?"

"I don't know what's going on," Rob said, "But it's dangerous, Carmen, and you know that. You're trying to tango with something that might get you killed."

"I'm not doing anything stupid, okay?" she said, snapping back into defensive mode. "Rob, I love him! I'm not going to just take someone else's side…"

"This isn't about taking sides anymore," Mel said, sniffling slightly and trying not to cry anymore. "Carmen, I'm not asking you to choose between him or us. I just think that you're getting yourself into more trouble than you know how to handle."

"I'm fine. _We're _fine." Carmen said stonily. "The whole voodoo thing is over, Shooter's gone, and we're gonna get married…we're fine. It's over. We're fine." These words became a brief chant, a mantra she used as a last ditch effort to save what faith she had.

That faith broke when she, like she had many times before, looked Rob in the eyes, looking for his support. This time, she found none. She slumped into a chair, her head held gloomily in her hands. "What am I going to do?" she said to herself. Then, she realized why she was there. "Mel, are you okay?" she asked. Mel nodded. Then, there was an awkward silence. "I'm sorry about this," Carmen said. "I mean, maybe if I had tried harder to make sure Mort was through with everything we were fighting- -"

"It's not your fault," Mel said.

"And I'm sorry about the baby," Carmen said. "I knew how much you wanted to have the baby,"

"It's all for the better, I guess," Mel said stoically. "I don't think I was ready yet. Maybe this is fate's way of telling me something." She looked at Rob.

"You two," Carmen said with a weak smile. "I knew something was funny from the very start. I can't believe you didn't tell me about this."

"Huh?" Rob said, trying to look confused. "Carmen, what are you talking about?"

"You two have been keeping the secret long enough," Carmen laughed. "How you managed to hide it from me, though, is a complete mystery. How long?"

"I moved into Rob's apartment about a month ago," Mel said, a smile finally working its way slowly onto her face. Carmen laughed quietly.

"So, the infamous Carter trio is no more, and now, it's the duo of Carter and Wallace." she laughed. "That's…amazing."

"Yeah, it is," Rob said, nodding with a smile. "So I guess the secret's out." He leaned over and kissed Mel chastely.

Carmen laughed, then looked at Mel. "You take care of this guy, got it?" she said with a smile. "If you let a catch like that slip away, you'll be regretting it for a long time. I'll make sure of that."

"I'm not letting this one slip through my fingers," Mel laughed, grabbing Rob's hand.

"Funny how Carmen shows up, and suddenly we're all so cheery," Rob pointed out. "Are you sure you don't have some voodoo magic of your own?"

"Nope, no magic here," Carmen shrugged seriously. "If I did have some kind of _magic power, _I could've made life perfect, huh? For all of us…"

"It's not so bad," Mel said. "We'll all just have to help each other outta this one."

"I dunno," Carmen said. "I mean, I tried _helping _Mort, and look how that turned out. Maybe I ought to just butt out of everyone's lives for a while."

"You think we're gonna let you do that?" Rob said. "You think that it's okay, running off and hiding once something goes wrong? It doesn't work like that, Carmen."

"What about when I have to see Mort again?" she said quietly. "What am I supposed to say?"

"Don't say anything," Mel said stoically. "Just stall for a while. If things calm down, then the guy's clean."

"Mel, no," Carmen said, tilting her head. "You can't ask me to forget what's happening to you. Someone got hurt…you lost your baby. You can't just ask me to go back and pretend that I never learned what I did today."

"You can't just throw your life out of the way any time you think it's time to help someone," Rob said remorsefully. "If Mort makes you happy, then don't let us stand in your way."

"I don't know anymore," Carmen said quietly. "I just need to think."

* * *

Mort woke with a horrible headache. He was sitting, slumped over the arm of his couch, though he was sure he had fallen asleep at his desk, in front of his computer. He had spent most of the night writing and deleting whole paragraphs of complete and utter nonsense, as far as he concerned, and had just gotten too exhausted with the ordeal to haul himself up to bed or down to the couch. How he was now lying on the couch was still an utter mystery. 

Come to think of it, he didn't even remember what he was writing, and was quite anxious to see. He had fallen asleep right at the computer, so he wouldn't have had the chance to shut it down. He strode up to his desk and stared at the document on the page.

_And there she stood, another victim ripe for the picking, and…a bonus. She looked about six months on the way to having a kid. A boy or girl, she'd never know. Her number would be up before she even got the chance. This woman was the biggest chance for revenge he'd ever have._

_So, with a maniacal chuckle, Todd Downey grinned. "It's sowing season again."_

"What the hell?" Mort muttered after reading the short blurb he'd written. "This is crap. I didn't write this…Todd Downey?"

Todd Downey…He hadn't used that name for a character since…since Secret Window. But Secret Window had turned out to be a curse, and a black mark on him forever. This situation, however, had to be complete fiction. First of all, he had no _reason_…no _excuse _to kill now. Second, he didn't know anyone who was pregnant…except

"Melanie Carter," he muttered offhandedly to himself, remembering Carmen's very _interesting _friend who had practically forced him to propose to her. He then realized how often Carmen would mention her friend's name in a conversation. She was the only person he knew of. A wave of panic pounded at his stomach as he considered the significance of this.

Mort knew better than to take for granted what he saw in his writing. Sure, this could be some trick of the mind, an outlet of the myriad emotions he'd been having lately since he and Carmen had gotten engaged, but it couldn't hurt to be sure.

He casually picked up the phone and dialed Carmen's number. Funny enough, she took about four rings to pick up. Usually, he wouldn't even have to sit through and entire ring before he heard her voice on the other end.

"Mort," she said in a straight tone. "Something up?"

"Up?" he said in a suspicious tone. "No, nothing's up. I was just wondering…how's your friend?"

Carmen paused and said nothing for about ten seconds. "I have more than one friend," she said trying to sound calm.

"The one who's expecting a baby," Mort said. "Melanie, was it?"

"Well, why do you want to know?" Carmen asked.

"Oh, just a little reassurance," Mort said nonchalantly. "I just woke up with a weird feeling, and then I look at my laptop, and I'd written something a little bit…creepy."

"Like what?" Carmen said, sounding even more suspicious.

"It's just weird," Mort said, feeling himself starting to buckle under the interrogating tone of her voice. "Pretty abstract, really."

"Read it to me," Carmen said stonily.

"Huh?" Mort said, sounding as awed as a deer caught in the headlights of an eighteen-wheeler. "You probably wouldn't get it. it's sort of--"

"_Read it_," Carmen insisted.

Mort felt he had no choice. He read the short bit to her, and felt extremely discouraged by her silence. "Well?" he said. "Is it that bad?"

"I can't talk to you right now," she said breathlessly.

"What?" Mort snapped, not giving her a chance to hang up yet. "Carmen, what's going on?"

"Mel lost the baby," she said, right before hanging up.

Mort was awed. Something _had _happened…but how? There was no way to explain this. And by the way Carmen had reacted, she definitely suspected that something was wrong.

_Thought it was over, didn't you?_

"Shut up," Mort growled angrily. "Shut up, shut up, shut the **hell **up!"

_You thought that these things would stop happening, but they won't. _

"Nothing **happened**!" he roared.

"Nothing happened, Mister Rainey?" came that dreaded Southern drawl. Mort grabbed at his head and clenching his eyes shut, trying furiously to push it back, but to no avail. "I made damn well sure that summat' _did _happen."

"WHAT DO YOU WANT?" he yelled. "I DON'T FUCKING HAVE ANYTHING ELSE TO LOSE TO YOU, SHOOTER!"

"Ye've got somethin' that belongs to me, and I'm taking it back, whether you like it or not," Shooter said stonily. Mort opened is eyes and once again saw the worn old man in his work shirt and soiled trousers standing in front of him.

"You fucking _idiot, _would you drop it?" Mort growled in a beast-like, guttural voice. "If I could give you your fucking hat, I would, but you know where it is? It's GONE."

"This has gotten bigger than just a lil' scrap of clothin', Mister Rainey," Shooter chuckled, striding away towards the door. "In time, you'll see just how much bigger it is."

* * *

N/A's

Uh oh, it looks as if Carmen and Mort won't be so quick to the altar after all. Doesn't Shooter choose such _inopportune _moments to get involved?

**lordoftheringsfanficreader: **You're back! The last chapter was wonderfully fluffy, wasn't it? But I think that their happiness has just been put on hiatus.

**smeagol's girl: **I do believe that I shall check out your Secret Window fic sometime soon! Once my schedule clears up more (seeing as highschool's being a wee bit hard on me, heehee) I'll give it a read!

**over-dramatic-05: **Eeek, I _do _have a lot of typos. Sorry. My beta-reader kinda quit on me (since chapter 5, haha), so I've kinda been on my own. I'll try to be more careful, though! Thanks!

**The lady of the shadows: **I'm sorry! Maybe no one _needed _to die, but it was necessary to move the story along. Please don't hate me!

**Dawnie-7: **I didn't plan on having Mort find Carmen's list, so there's no need to worry about that...for now. But I think that there's going to be a few more pressing issues, once the ball gets rolling again...

Hopefully I'll update soon! Keep your finger crossed, my friends.


	19. A Loss For More Than Words

**DISCLAIMER: **_I own Carmen and Rob. Kay?_

_Sorry for the delay. My Mort-muse went on hiatus, but he's back for now. I have two other fics in the works right now, so I'll be jumping back and forth between all of them, but I'm trying, I swear! _

_In a bit of a rush, so I'm not going to reply to all my reviews this time. Next time, okay? Love you guys!_

* * *

Carmen was staying at a hotel, unable to pull herself back to Tashmore Lake. She found herself drinking a fair amount too much every night, and waking every morning with a horrible headache. She couldn't even bear to speak to Melanie now. She felt so incredibly guilty, she felt that if she could only just sit in her room for the rest of her life and rot, she'd be doing everyone a favor.

"I wasn't enough," she muttered. "I couldn't stop any of this from happening. If I hadn't gone to Tashmore Lake at all…Everything would have been all right."

Though she couldn't really tell, she was practically killing herself this way. She barely ate for three days, and even when she did, she couldn't hold it down. She was shutting down, and though she put on a strong front for whoever happened to show upshe had a rather obsessive fascination with room serviceshe was crumbling from the inside out. Carmen, once a stronghold and a leviathan, had finally broken.

She nearly screamed out loud when her phone rang. She hadn't heard that sound in days. Not even Mort had tried to call her, which, at some level, had hurt Carmen quite severely. She fumbled around in her purse, still in a semi-drunken stupor. "Hello?" she groaned. Her voice was strange to her.

"Hey," Rob said, speaking more gently to her than he ever had before. Carmen cleared her throat, trying not to sound quite so miserable. She hated being pitied. "I haven't seen you out and about lately."

"Oh, I've just been resting. Catching up on sleep and what have you," Carmen laughed quietly. "You know how hard it's been for me to sleep this past month. I guess I've needed a break more than I realized."

"Yeah, ever since you got engaged, you've been all work and no play," Rob laughed. "But you shouldn't lock yourself up like you're doing. Mel's worried about you. How about you and I go out for lunch, just the two of us? It'll be like old times."

"Old times," Carmen sighed nostalgically. "Oh god, that's so wrong. I'm too young for there to be _old times_." She laughed softly…that sound was even more strange to her.

"Well, how about we go out for lunch?" Rob persisted. "You'll feel a lot…less old."

"Sounds like a plan," Carmen laughed. "Pick me up in ten minutes?"

"Make it five," Rob said. Carmen couldn't help but think that she could _hear _the smile in his voice.

"Now you're rushing me. I take _ages _to get ready," she giggled right before she hung up.

Funny enough, it didn't take her quite so long to get ready. Not that she didn't want to look good when she went out with Rob, but this was just different. When she was going somewhere with Mort, she was compelled to keep up and image. She always felt as though she had something to prove, since Mort always spoke so highly of her. She felt that anything less than perfect would let him down terribly. But, ever since she had known Rob, she had never felt for insecure, or so self-conscious. She felt like she could act as young and immature as she really was around him without losing his respect. He was the best friend she had ever been able to imagine.

Carmen threw on khaki cargo pants and a denim-blue tank top, ready to go. She put on makeup (including plenty of cover-up in order to disguise the reddish tint to her skin caused by days of nothing but sleeping, drinking, and being quite ill), tucked her cell phone into one pocket, her wallet into the other, and sat on her bed.

Rob was punctual, as always. After a round of warm hellos, they went out to one of Rob's carsCarmen never really did understand his obsession with themand went down to what Rob called 'the classiest place in town.'

"Jack in the Box?" Carmen laughed as they pulled up in the drive-thru. "You're taking me to Jack in the Box?" She looked at him with a cocked eyebrow.

"I'm a man on a budget," he laughed. "They have these things called _burgers_"

"Rob," Carmen laughed, "Burgers aren't that amazing."

"Of course they are," he laughed as he pulled up at the window.

After picking up their _fine gourmet meal, _they stopped the car right next to park and ate. Carmen found it incredibly amazing, watching the man she knew as the epitome high class sitting next to her and squeezing a ketchup packet into a pouch of soggy French fries.

"So you're okay?" Rob asked, seemingly out of nowhere. Carmen looked at him and shrugged. "I honestly don't expect you to be," Rob said. "After everything that's been going on"

"You're the last person that I want to pity me," Carmen said blankly. "I'm trying to just forget that any of this ever happened."

"You can't really do that," Rob said. Carmen just sighed. "You're engaged. How can you _forget _a detail like that?"

"I don't know," Carmen said. "But even I have to admit that meeting Mort has just complicated everything. I think I love him. I _think_. But I don't know, because in order to be in love with someone, you usually have to trust them. I can't really do that with Mort. I should. I mean, he's never hurt me. But…I don't."

"Why do you think that is?" Rob asked.

"Because there's so much that he's not telling me. I can sense it. I'm no psychic or anything, but it's hard to believe that he's being honest with me after everything that's happened." she said, running her hand through her hair. "I mean, what am I supposed to do? Follow him like a puppy? I don't do that,"

"So what are you going to do? I mean, you've been with him for a _relatively _long time, considering your track record," Rob pointed out. "And you're engaged to him. Are you willing to end it with him because of all this?"

"How could I hurt him like that?" Carmen said sadly, resting her head in her arm. "Then again, how couldn't I? I feel like I'm being sucked into something, and I'm not sure if I even want it to stop."

"You _do _want it to stop. I can tell whenever I hear you talk," Rob said. "And it _should _stop, before anyone else gets hurt. You"

"Don't tell me I _deserve better_, Rob." Carmen said stonily. "I thought you were through trying to break Mort and me up."

"I can't help it." Rob said simply. "I see what this is doing to you, and I don't like it."

Carmen looked down towards the sidewalk, feeling oddly humiliated. She was aware that she had done nothing wrong, but was still ashamed. She had allowed herself to fall this far, and she could see what Rob was talking about.

"Things are gonna clear up eventually," Carmen said surely. "I mean, eventually, all things will. Some people don't realize that, but it's true."

"If that's true, then I think you're the _only _one who realizes it," Rob laughed.

"That's the problem with people these days," Carmen said. "They grow up too fast. I know, I'm incredibly immature, but I'm happier for it. Most of the time, anyway…"

"Let's drop by and pay Mel a visit. She's been worried sick about you," Rob said.

"How's she been?" Carmen asked. "I mean, I know that she must be taking it really hard."

"She's actually getting through it really well," Rob said. "I mean, she's actually happier than ever from what I see. I guess it's just her way of dealing with things,"

"I hope so," Carmen said. "To be honest, I was sure if she'd be able to take it. I know that if it had happened to me, I'd have gone insane. But Mel's more realistic than I am. I'm glad she's handling it,"

Rob started the car and got moving towards the apartment where he and Melanie were living together, all the while keeping the conversation with Carmen.

They got up to the door of the apartment and opened the door. When they stepped inside, Mel wasn't curled up in the armchair while watching TV, as Rob said she usually was.

"Hm, her car's here, and the bedroom door's open," Rob said. "She must've gone out for a walk."

"I bet she did," Carmen said, walking over to the kitchen. She looked at the counter and saw a folded sheet of loose-leaf paper. "Oh, hey, Rob! She left a note for you." Carmen picked up the sheet of paper, not unfolding it. "It's a pretty long looking note."

"She always _does _have a lot to say," Rob smiled. "Give it here."

Carmen handed it to him, and he unfolded it. Carmen expected him to quickly skim over it, but was surprised to see that he began reading it very carefully. The expression on his face changed drastically as he kept reading, and Carmen began to feel anxious at what Mel had written. Suddenly, Rob dropped the note onto the ground and ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

Desperate to know what had upset him so badly, Carmen stooped over and picked up the letter. At first she was far too afraid to read it, but eventually she became too overcome by curiosity. She looked at the paper.

Immediately, she noticed the handwriting. It was still quite small, as was characteristic of Melanie's printing, but was obviously written by a trembling hand. Melanie had the steadiest hand Carmen knew of, and her penmanship was never, _never _anything less than perfect. Already, and sickening sensation of foreboding crept over Carmen, so strong that she was tempted to just turn tail and run away. Then, Carmen slowly gathered the gall to read the words themselves…

_I guess the best thing to do right now is to explain. Or to apologize…I'm sorry for the pain I'm about to cause all of you. I'm sorry for any pain that I may have already caused. I just don't feel like I can take this anymore. I've lost too much, and it's impossible to keep pretending that it doesn't hurt. I lost my baby, and I've been dead since then. This is only doing what's right._

_Rob, I promise, I tried to get through this. I was so anxious to know how we would grow together, and how we may have raised my child together. You made me last as long as I did. I don't know how to thank you. You can do so much more with your life. Don't let this stop you._

_Carmen…You're strong. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. I'm not angry at you, and I'm worried about you. I want things to be all right for you, and I don't want you to feel guilty for any of this, even though I know you will. But you're better than this. You can win. I only wish I could've had the courage you had. You're my hero, you know. I would've been to scared to spend a day in your shoes, especially when my life seems so terrifying already. Don't give up._

_I know I'm a coward for giving up. But I can't be brave. I can't keep going like I'm not dying inside, because I am. There's nothing any of you could've done. Please, don't feel guilty. This isn't anyone's fault but my own…_

_I don't want to let go…but I've just run out of things to hold on to._

_-Melanie Carter_

Carmen didn't realize that tears were streaming down her face until she had finished reading. There was no question in her mind what had happened; the point had been made unmistakably clear, to her and to Rob. She ran to the bedroom, and had to clap her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. Melanie was lying on the bed, a pillow over her face. She shakily walked over and moved the pillow, only to feel the wave of nausea nearly overcome her. Melanie's young and once-vibrant face was pale, void of breath or life. It was too late to do anything, and even Carmen, in her heart of hearts, knew that. Carmen wanted to fall down and cry on the ground, but she knew that she had to do something…

She hurried over to the bathroom door, quickly wiping the tears off of her face.

"Rob?" she said, trying to steady her voice. "Rob, come out."

"Get the fuck away!" he said.

"Rob." She said forcefully. "We are not going to just leave her there. We…we owe her more than that."

"Oh, quit trying to be so self-righteous," Rob said, suddenly opening the door so forcefully that Carmen jumped back. "Don't talk about what we _owe _her. You _know _the reason she did this!"

"Rob, this is REALLY not the time," she said, trying not to sound affected. She knew it was selfish to be thinking of her own feelings in this situation, but she was so deeply hurt. This was the first time that Rob had _ever _spoken to her in a way meant to intentionally spite her.

"You wanna be such a saint, do it yourself," he said, slamming the door shut once again.

So Carmen had no other choice. She had to make the painful call to 911, telling them what had happened, and that it was already too late. She had to stand there alone as the paramedics came into the apartment and moved Melanie Carter's body, the cold, pale shell of a once beautiful woman. Carmen watched out the window as the ambulance drove away, no longer bothering with sirens. They were in no rush…nothing could be done.

When they had finally gone, Carmen sat down in the armchair and buried her head in her hands, finally letting her heart-wrenching sobs free from the pit of her chest. Her breath heaved with every racking cry until she felt as though her heart was about to stop and her lungs would explode.

All of this was her fault. Every single bit of it, she had caused. If she had never met Mort…she truly believed in Mel when she said that it was Mort who caused the accident that claimed the life of her child. Carmen truly felt her own inadequacy when she realized that Shooter really hadn't gone. Carmen felt that her own foolish pride, her thoughts that it was in her power to magically fix everything, had caused all of this.

And if she had only insisted that she didn't want to go anywhere with Rob today, he would've stayed home. He would have been able to make sure that Melanie was all right.

"I'm murderer," Carmen sobbed into her hands. Almost against her own will, she fell asleep in that spot, her arms wrapped around herself.

Meanwhile, once he had noticed that Carmen had fallen silent, Rob came out of the bathroom, looking worn and weary. He saw Carmen in the armchair, her face tear-streaked and so…vulnerable.

He knelt in front of her. "I'm sorry," he muttered, knowing that she was sleeping. He knew that he had made the situation hard on her as well. The one person he felt would be able to handle this was completely broken.

"I shouldn't have made you do this all alone," he said quietly. "After what you've been through…I shouldn't have given you this to deal with too." He could only imagine the things she was forced to see while he was being a coward and hiding from all of it. He reached out and took Carmen's hand, almost beseechingly. He found that she was rather chilly.

He took off his jacket and put it over her. Then, he sat down in the chair next to her and found himself mercifully drifting to sleep as well, completely spent.

Carmen woke nearly an hour later, finding Rob's jacket on her. Another pang of guilt hit her. She shrugged it off and put it back over Rob. Then, she picked up her phone. She dialed Mort's number. They _needed _to talk…about what, Carmen wasn't sure. But things just needed to be said.

"Carmen," Mort said. Carmen still felt oddly comforted at hearing his voice, even though she felt that he had played a large part in this dilemma.

"You haven't been calling," she said, trying to sound as though nothing was wrong. "I almost thought you weren't interested in talking."

"I thought I'd give you space," he said gently. "I know how you are when you're going through something."

"Yeah," she said quietly. "I need to tell you something…Melanie's…gone. Rob and I found her in her apartment a while ago, and…there was nothing we could do," She held back a fresh sobs that blocked up her chest.

"What?" he asked. "Carmen, I'm sorry…" Carmen could tell that he felt genuinely horrible, and even more, she could sense that it brought something equally horrible to his mind…she knew at that moment that Shooter really wasn't about to leave them alone.

"I don't know what to do," Carmen said helplessly. "Mort, I don't know what to do."

"About what?" he asked, his voice laced with worry and fear.

"About us," Carmen said tearfully. "I'm scared now, Mort. I know you don't mean for things to happen…"

"What are you trying to say?" he asked. "I know you're terrified right know. Hell, I can't even relate to what you're going through, but I swear"

"I don't want to get hurt anymore." Carmen said stonily. "I want to believe in you, I really do, but I can't take this. Each time these things happen, a piece of me dies, and I don't know how much more I have to give."

"So you're giving up," he said resentfully. "After all this bullshit, you're just giving up?"

"No!" Carmen said, sounding nearly frantic. "No, Mort, please, don't think that. I'm never going to give up on us. Do you understand me? Never. I just…can't keep moving as fast as we are. I need space. I jus want to you to understand that."

"I love you," he said. "I love you. You can't leave me, understand?"

"I know," Carmen said affirmatively. "God, Mort, I love you more than anything in the world. That's why I hope so badly that…that you understand."

She didn't receive an answer. He hung up on her. He had never done that to her before, even when they were arguing. A new, unfamiliar feeling of hopelessness washed over Carmen.

She couldn't bear to be around Rob when he woke up, she took a deep breath and left. She walked all the way back to the hotel, where she packed her things back up and tossed them into her car. She just wanted to get away from the city as quickly as she could. She went to the only place where she felt she could escape…home.

The house in Tashmore Lake seemed bigger, darker, and so much lonelier when she arrived. Even when she turned on every light in the house, it felt hopelessly miserable. Everything was swallowed up by darkness. Everything.


	20. No Time for Apologies

_**Disclaimer: **So, Rob's mine, Carmen's mine...Mort's NOT mine. AWWW. This makes me sad._

_Sorry for the wait (again)_

_Also, I do believe you're going to HATE Carmen after this chapter, but hopefully she can redeem herself later._

BTW, if anyone really CARES what Rob looks like, in my mind he looks liek Loren Dean (he's an actor, but you probably don't know who he is, tee-hee)

xoxo_

* * *

_

_Uh oh, someone's in trouble now…_

"Shut up," Mort said blankly. "I can't believe it, she picks _them _over _me_?"

_She's entitled. She has a right to be suspicious of you now. She'd be stupid if she didn't think that Shooter had something to do with this- -_

"THERE IS NO SHOOTER!" he roared angrily. "You said it yourself. Are you just gonna turn around and say, 'D'oh! I was wrong! You're not insane, there really _is _an invisible serial killer picking people off like flies!'"

_Pretty much._

"Well, you've got fucking great timing, buddy!" he said snidely. "Break the news to me right when I'm on the verge of being happy! Genius plan, wasn't it?"

_I think you know that I didn't plan it like this. There **was **no plan. But I think there ought to be now. What are you going to do about Carmen._

"How about we have her committed?" Mort snapped, his voiced dripping with bitter sarcasm. "If she tells anyone what's going on, they'll think she's crazy anyway! Shooter can't get to her in padded walls!"

_You can't guarantee that_.

"So what?" Mort said, throwing his hand up hysterically. "The only way to make sure _Shooter _doesn't kill her is to do it myself! And fuck, do you really think I'm that crazy?"

_You're losing control, Mort. For all you know, you may have already done it. You haven't heard from her in two days, correct?_

"Yeah," Mort said, "Yeah, since that day she called and told me that Melanie killed herself."

_Haven't seen her, gotten any phone calls?_

"Nothing," Mort said, panic beginning to rise in his chest. It wasn't like Carmen to disappear off the face of the earth. "Crap, I need to see her!" He quickly threw on a shabby coat and two non-matching shoes before running haphazardly out the door. He started his car so forcefully that the poor vehicle, now battered though it was still fairly new from all the use he had put it through, shook violently. Still, it wouldn't start quite yet.

"Damn it!" he yelled, banging his hands angrily on the dashboard. "Start, you piece of crap!"

_You might be a little bit too late, you know. What if you already did it?_

"No!" Mort growled fiercely, gunning the engine once again and finally hearing a healthy rumble. He got the car moving, and drove carelessly through the scattered trees along the dirt part until he pulled in front of Carmen's house. Her car was outside, meaning that she had come home already.

_You could've done it, _the voice persisted, _you may have already gotten to her._

Mort bolted up to the door and knocked. "Carmen?" he said, trying to sound calm. "Carmen, let me in." He didn't hear an answer. He knocked more forcefully. "Carmen, open this door right now!"

Still not being rewarded with any reply, he reached for the doorknob, only to find that the door was unlocked. Pulse racing, he stepped inside. All of the lights were on, regardless of the obvious presence of daylight.

"Mort?"

He whirled around and sighed in relief to see Carmen standing right behind him, dressed in pajamas and looking rather sleepy. He let out a sigh of relief.

"Hel-_lo_," he said, waving his hand in front of her half-open eyes.

"Hey stranger," she laughed. Mort could tell that she was unbelievably tired from the faint dark circles beneath her eyes.

"Are you feeling all right?" he asked carefully, being sure not to mention anything about the death of her friend until he knew for sure how she'd handle it.

"Not bad," she shrugged, crossing her arms over herself. "I just don't feel like I have any energy at all. I haven't been able to sleep so well lately, but then again, I've always been a bit of an insomniac."

He nodded in comprehension. The pair squirmed slightly, unsure of what to say at the moment. "Silence…"Mort pointed out. "It's a little bit more awkward than I expected, considering the fact that we're…you know…going to get married eventually."

"I'm just in a funk," she laughed weakly. "I think too much, right? I worry about everything…"

"We're going to get married eventually," Mort repeated, but this time with a hint of questioning in his voice.

"Do you think so?" she asked, unable to even look at him.

"Of course I do," he said, putting on what he hoped was a cocky grin. He _had _to put on this front. If he let the situation get emotional, it would go out of control.

"Why are you here?" Carmen asked. "I asked you to just leave me alone last time I talked to you. Why can't you just do that?" She rubbed her temple as though she was having difficulty thinking.

"I wanted to see you," He said nonchalantly. "I mean, I was worried. I thought that maybe something had happened to you."

"What would've happened to me?" Carmen asked, crossing her arms stoically. "You think that _Shooter _could've killed me if you hadn't hastened to my rescue?"

"What are you trying to say?" he snapped, sounding more harsh than he intended, but making no move to control his tone nonetheless.

"I thought I could ignore everything," she said simply. "I thought that I could deal with all the baggage you came with, but that's before _I _started getting hurt by it. I can't do this yet." She looked down and slipped the ring off of he finger, thrusting it outward and pressing it into Mort's palm. "I just need time to deal with this first."

"You're taking this pretty well," he growled angrily, noting the absence of emotion of his fiancée…no, his _ex-fiancée's _face.

"You want me to cry?" Carmen said, a flare of anger evident in her eyes. "One of my best friends just _died_, and it might be your goddamn fault. Do you expect me to cry right now, like it's upsetting me?"

"So this isn't just about breaking off the engagement," Mort said, irking his eyebrows upward. "Well, that's good to know."

"I wasn't _trying _to break up with you," Carmen said matter-of-factly. "Stop acting like a fucking little kid about this. I'm just _telling _you that I need to be alone for a while. Seeing you is just going make things harder."

"Fine," Mort shrugged, letting out a heavy breath. "Take whatever _space _you need. I just thought you took this a little more seriously, that's all. I'm bailing." He turned and stormed out of the house, slamming the screen door behind him.

"Screw it," Carmen muttered to no one in particular. "If that's the way he's gonna be, I can't deal right now."

She jumped and squealed loudly when she heard her cell phone ringing. She flipped it open and put it to her ear. "Whatever it is, I don't want to talk about it, Rob," she said warily.

"It's too late to say you don't want to see me, because I'm five goddamn minutes away from your house right now." He replied. Without giving Carmen a chance to protest, he hung up.

True to his word, he came waltzing through the door in just a few minutes to see Carmen sitting on the sofa quite placidly. He stepped up to stand across from her and dropped a card on the table. It was an invitation, on it written the date and time of Melanie Carter's funeral. It happened to have taken place on the previous day.

"You didn't go," he said simply.

"As if anyone wanted to see me there," Carmen shrugged, looking off into the distance somewhere. "I don't deserve anyone to look at me and think that I was her friend. I don't deserve to have _you _look at me and tell me that I'm a fucking worthwhile human being."

"So that's it," Rob said bitterly, "The world's finally taken its final bite out of your ass? You're willing to just sit here and rot?" Carmen looked at him, quite disgusted. It disgusted her that he thought of her as someone who was continually a victim. No, no, Carmen knew better. She knew that she was the one causing the damage.

"Are you trying to get me to _talk to you? _You want me to _share my feelings_?" she said sarcastically. "Well, newsflash, Wallace, you'd never understand what the hell I'm going through."

"No, I know _exactly _what's going on in that screwed up little head of yours," he snapped. "I've known you too long, Carmen. I know that you're going to just sit here and wallow in self-pity like you always do when things get rough, and you're gonna wait for me to give you an ego boost, like I always do. Well, I'm not going to this time."

"Then leave, if you're gonna be so useless," she said, waving her hand dismissively. Rob narrowed his eyes at her, unable to comprehend what had brought about such a sudden change, far more than just a show of grief. She had changed from a playfully sarcastic lady who knew her limits, into someone so hurtful and sardonic that she was unrecognizable.

"Look, losing Mel is hard, I'll tell you that," Rob said, sitting on the arm of the sofa next to Carmen, but not looking at her. "But I didn't love her."

"Didn't your mom ever tell you not to speak ill of the dead," Carmen asked, lounging backwards as she put her feet up onto the table.

"It's true," Rob said. "I didn't love Melanie, and I think she knew that. Maybe eventually, I could have, but I didn't. I cared about her...We liked each other, but nothing else. I couldn't love her, because I'm still busy being your lackey,"

"You're not my lackey," Carmen said in annoyance. "I may act like it, but you're not my lackey, Rob. You're more than just a sidekick and a wingman."

"Even if I was just your sidekick, I would have lived with it," he said. "I'm fucking addicted to you, Carmen. You can treat me like shit on the bottom of your shoe, and I still keep on coming back." He paused, and looked out the window, surprised at himself for what he intended to say next. "Mel wanted to be just like you. She was starting to do a damn good job of it, too. That's why I started growing closer and closer to her. Being around her was like getting a hit. I could be with her, just as long as I could eventually get close to you too. But now that's she's gone…" he turned his head to look at Carmen, who was looking at him with the expression of a deer caught in the headlights.

"I'm engaged," she said matter-of-factly, forgetting the fact that as of barely ten minutes ago, that statement was as good as false.

"You're the one who wanted to forget that," Rob said. "So go ahead and forget it. I dare you."

And Carmen was never one to refuse a dare…she leaned forward, engulfing Robert Wallace in a kiss that made sure he would never doubt her daring again.

* * *

* * *

_A/N's_

_I'm SORRY! But I just had to do it! It gets the story moving, trust me. FORGIVE ME!_

_**Dawnie-7, **I cried when I wrote it! Is that weird? _

_**An Anti-Sheep Cheese Muffin, **define "groin-grabbingly good," haha._

_**The lady of the shadows, **they don't seem to be getting any closer to their 'happily ever after', do they?_

_**lordoftheringsfanficreader, **I'm sorry for killing Mel...but I **did **update sooner than before, right?_


	21. Set Me Free

And there she stood, kissing Robert Wallace. Not Mort Rainey. Robert Wallace. It stung her, like a slap across the face. It was so…wrong.

Carmen pulled away, suddenly feeling disgusted with herself. After everything she and Mort had gone through, she was going to let him get away? She loved him, she knew she did…

"You shouldn't have let me do that," she said quietly.

"I still love you, Carmen," he said, grabbing her hand somewhat forcefully. Her eyes flashed and she pulled her hand away as though she had been burned.

"Well, I don't fucking love you!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, which, considering she had been crying for hours, was not as forceful as it could have been. "Get out of here, Rob. Just…" her voice cracked and she ran upstairs.

Something _needed _to happen. Something was _going _to happen. Carmen just couldn't tell what. Her hands shook as she started hurling papers and every other object off of her desk, sobbing in frustration the entire time.

She suddenly stopped her rampage of her office when she saw a plain folder sitting on her desk, which had been buried under all of the clutter for a considerably long amount of time. She picked it up and opened it. It was the background report on Shooter.

"John mother-fucking-Shooter," she muttered to herself. "I guess you got what you wanted now, didn't you? Made _Mort _miserable, made _me _miserable. You must be doing a goddamn square-dance in your fucking grave. You won, Shooter. Happy now?"

"Not quite," said a voice from somewhere very distant—Carmen could tell which direction it came from. She spun around wildly, looking for the voice, only to find it was nowhere to be seen. "I ain't quite done with Mr. Rainey yet."

"Oh, yes you are." Carmen growled, almost gutturally. "You've done _enough_, Shooter."

"You ain't even stuck with him anymore, Miss Allen," he said condescendingly, "Don't trouble yourself with the men's business. It ain't good for yuh."

"I'm still going to stop you," Carmen said, drawing herself up challengingly, "I don't know how, but whatever it takes, I'm gonna make you wish you'd stayed in your fucking grave, Shooter."

"I might'uh already gotten him," Shooter chuckled, "Could'uh made the fella do anything I wanted by now."

"You wouldn't…" Carmen said, suddenly terrified, but attempting to shield her voice from letting on.

"If you say so, Miss Allen," Shooter sad in the same condescending tone. Carmen sneered one last time around the empty room, narrowed her eyes, and ran off down the stairs. Not bothering to put on a coat or shoes, she picked up her keys, ran out to her car, and drove like a madwomen until she reached Mort's cabin. Her eyes widened in fear and anxiety when she saw the door open, swaying slightly on its hinges. She ran up the porch and into the house.

"Mort!" she screamed, looking around the empty living room. "Mort, I know you hate me, but don't fuck around right now! Where are you?" She screamed. No reply. She glanced wildly around the room, and noticed that the fire was lit, even in the middle of the day. Then, hanging on the mantelpiece, she saw Shooter's hat—she seemed both confused and mesmerized by the sight of it. She'd destroyed it, she knew she had. But it had come back. It had come back to _her_. It was _hers_. Suddenly, she felt compelled to touch it. She was completely silent now…

She strode over to the fireplace, placed her hand on the hat, and held the thing firmly. Now, she felt as though, for no real purpose at all, she had to—

_Put it on._

She placed the hat on her head, and suddenly, everything seemed amazingly clear for a moment—

Mort strode into the room at that moment and saw Carmen standing in his living room, gazing blankly into his fireplace. He didn't see a hat, or a fire— only Carmen. He approached cautiously.

"Carmen." He said firmly. She didn't budge. "Carmen, what are you—" He stopped when she turned around and stared at him, her eyes glassy and her lips curled into a wicked smile.

"Carmen ain't here no more," she said in a hoarse voice punctuated by a Southern drawl.

"Shooter." Mort said. There was no question about it. "What's she got to do with anything? Let her go."

"She's got everything to do with us, Mister Rainey," said the voice in Carmen's body.

"Let her go," Mort repeated in a low, vicious growl. "You can't have her—"

"She's mine!" Shooter roared horribly, grabbing a gun off of the mantelpiece and cocking it threateningly. "I s'pose she's been a good little girl 'n kept her mouth shut, but even you oughta have seen the signs by now, Mr. Rainey. She's been dyin' for you to know…"

"Know…know what?" Mort asked anxiously. "If you're just—"

"I'm bein' completely serious," Shooter said, albeit with a cold chuckle that was somehow terrifying to hear, coming from Carmen's voice. "Ain't you ever heard it's wrong to marry a girl without her father's permission? I never gave you my daughter's hand."

"What?" Mort snapped, "I don't what you're talking about. Your _daughter_? You—" Mort froze, then stared at Shooter, the shock and realization dawning coldly upon him.

"My only daughter, Carmen Shooter. My only child, the child of mine and my wife - I thought you'd have seen that. But she been protectin' you, Mister Rainey. She done it on account'a I told her to. She's mighty good at keepin' secrets. 'S why it's so good she's mine."

"No." Mort said quietly, "No, you can't have her!"

"She's already mine," Shooter laughed frigidly.

"Let me talk to her." Mort said. Shooter grinned and nodded.

"Mort?" said a quiet voice from somewhere far away. It was unmistakably Carmen's. "Mort, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No," Mort said, "No, don't apologize, just tell me how to save you."

"You can't," Carmen said calmly. "I love you, Mort. I didn't mean-"

"JUST TELL ME HOW TO FUCKING SAVE YOU!" he screamed desperately.

"Tell the boy, Carmen," said Shooter, his own masculine voice suddenly coming from Carmen's mouth. "There's a way." Carmen's voice didn't reply. "You listen to your father-"

"You're not my father!" Carmen suddenly shrieked, her voice emitting a ghostly echo throughout the room.

The eye's on Carmen's body suddenly glinted angrily. "Suit yourself, then." Shooter said. "He don't save you, I got my own body to keep at him with. I'll keep your body, girl. And I'm never gonna let him live it down."

For a moment, the voice remained silent. Then, in a different, quavering tone, it began to speak again. "Mort, you have to kill me."

"What?" Mort said loudly. "You must be joking."

"Pick up the gun you keep under the sofa." Carmen's voice said knowingly. "Shoot my body."

"That won't change anything," Mort said frantically. "He'll just find someone else-"

"He's been looking for _me_," Carmen said quietly. "That body's his final stop. You need to kill him now, or you'll never have the chance again."

"I'm not going to kill you," he said resolutely.

"I won't be able to stay long without my own body," Carmen said, somewhat sadly. "I can't stay much longer. You need to do it now."

"Make your choice, Mr. Rainey," Shooter said. "Are you going to save your woman's body, or her soul?"

"You'd do this to your own daughter?" Mort spat in disgust.

"She's mine, I'll do with her as I please." Shooter said.

"Mort, please," Carmen's voice pleaded, sounding incredibly close to tears. Mort picked up the gun he hid under his sofa, cocked it, and pointed it at Carmen's body.

"Y'ain't gonna do it." Shooter said cockily.

His hand shook, his knees knocked. "I – I can't! Carmen, I'm sorry, I can't-"

Suddenly, Mort felt as if someone had suddenly knocked the wind out of him. Everything was growing black. He was standing alone in the blackness. Then, suddenly, like a light growing and coming closer, something flitted closer and closer to him. Suddenly, in an eruption of bright light, everything around him was brilliantly illuminated, and there before him stood Carmen.

"What are you doing?" she asked. "You know what you need to do."

"I can't do it, not to you," Mort said, looking somewhat ashamed. "I – I still love you. Carmen, don't make me-"

"It needs to be done," Carmen said remorsefully. "But if you can't, I won't make you. I won't force you to do anything you think you can't." Mort suddenly felt extremely guilty. He'd made her squirm, made her hurt, made her cry, because she opened up to him and showed she was only human. And here she was, forgiving him.

"Carmen," he said quietly, his voice cracking with emotion. He couldn't find anything else to say.

"Everything's going to be alright," she said quietly, kissing him gently. "We'll be alright." They stared silently into one another's eyes, tears welling in both. "Let me do this…" and without warning, the heavenly glow suddenly disappeared, giving way to dark, shaded atmosphere of Mort's living room once more.

Only Mort wasn't looking through his own eyes. It seemed as though he was a fly on the ceiling. He saw him, standing, holding the gun and pointing it at Shooter, and he suddenly realized what has happening/except he could do nothing about it.

"You know you ain't gonna shoot me, Mr. Rainey," Shooter laughed mockingly. But Mort's face broke into a smile.

"I ain't Mr. Rainey," said the voice from Mort's body. From his place by the ceiling, Mort tried to scream, wanted so badly to, but couldn't. The two final words that came from the voice possessing Mort's body echoed eerily through the room –

"Bye, Daddy."

A gunshot rang clear, and suddenly, Mort felt himself being yanked downward, back into his own body. Uon what must have been impact, he staggered a bit, then looked at Carmen's body, lying on the ground, a gaping wound in her chest. He ran to her, and cradled her head in his hands. Already, she was growing ghastly pale. "Carmen," he said quietly.

"You didn't do this," she said, trying to force a smile onto her slowly fading face. "Mort, I love you. Please…say goodbye to me…"

"I won't." he said resolutely. "No, not yet. Not like this."

He called the ambulance, which came in minutes. They looked at him suspiciously, and at Carmen's prone body. They suspected him, no doubt of that, but there was no time to point fingers. They whisked her away, sirens blaring. Mort got into his own beat up car and followed.

He only hoped that it wouldn't be too late when he got there.


	22. Breaking Through

Everyone stared as though they were being paid to do it -- Mort Rainey, rushing in, just after an ambulance arrived carrying Carmen Allen on a stretcher. It was evident, even through the sheet that covered her, that there was blood. 

"You'll need to stay out here," said the nurse at the desk, stepping out quite firmly to halt Mort from entering. "The police are going to --"

"We don't need any goddamn _cops_ getting involved in this," Mort growled through gritted teeth. It appealed to his most feral instincts, what they were doing, like separating an animal from his mate. Carmen was _his _woman, and it was his sole primal goal to see that she was alive. He attempted to squeeze around the woman, but to no avail. "She's my damn _girlfriend_," he said, fists clenched at his sides, though he wasn't quite sure if he could even call her that anymore after everything had happened – remorse washed over him as he realized that men didn't do things like this to women they loved. Rob wouldn't have. _Ted Milner_ wouldn't have...

"Listen, lady," Mort continued through gritted teeth, attempting to shake off his thought. "If I were anyone else but the resident psychopath, you'd --"

"You're _not_ anyone else," the nurse said stoically, and it became quite clear to Mort, if it hadn't already been, what everyone thought of him. "Now, we can't demand that you leave this hospital, but you will _not_ enter that area until cleared by the authorities."

Mort's eyes narrowed -- he wasn't normally one to fight, but he was sure as hell past feeling just a bit hot under the collar. His face was reddening, just as his knuckles paled from being in fists so suddenly and for so long -- it hadn't helped how tightly he'd gripped the steering wheel while driving over here.

"I'm _entering that area_ NOW."

He pushed brusquely past the woman, but no sooner had he passed her when a pair of arms clad in security guard uniforms reached out and grabbed him, pulling him back and shoving him back past the barrier that divided the reception area -- this was most definitely beginning to create a scene. People muttered about the murderer going in to finish a botched job, wondering what Carmen had done to deserve it now.

"You won't try somethin' like that again," the nurse said, nose upturned as though she were speaking to something filthy and lowly. "Else I'll be calling the police and they'll --"

"Mister Rainey," said a doctor, stepping out into the patient waiting area, pulling off his latex gloves and stuffing them in a plastic-lined pocket to be disposed of later. Mort's heart skipped a beat – no one would be speaking to him with such a _lack_ of hostility unless something had occurred for which he was truly to be pitied. The expression on the man's face, it could only mean…

_She's dead, you know,_ said the voice inside of Mort, and Mort feared it would be is only companion for the rest of his life. _She's DOA, and you're going to prison for this one. How do you survive being shot straight through --_

"You...may come into her room." the doctor said stoically. Mort felt like screaming in anguish at that moment -- no one was telling him she was doing fine. No one was telling her to 'be careful,' or to keep his voice down because she was tired – and with a throbbing pain within, Mort realized that if she was dead, none of that would matter. He could collapse in a loud, insane fit next to her hospital bed, and it wouldn't disturb her anymore. In all the stories besides his own, the girl turned out _fine_ in the end, and everyone left her and her hero to be alone and perfectly in love. Why wasn't it happening?

Mort found himself rushing down the corridor once they'd given him clearance until he reached the door they'd indicated would be Carmen's. He pushed it open, only to come face to face with the new deputy sheriff exiting the room. He merely gave him a nod, maintaining a flat expression, and walked on.

_They've got everything they need against you now. They feel too bad for you to even hassle you --_

"No," Mort growled, pushing past the door, seeing Carmen laying on the bed, hooked up to monitors, and looking so frail under the stark white sheets and her hospital gown --

-- but she was _alive_. The heart rate monitor still beeped steadily, the sheets moved ever so slightly with her labored but very much existent breathing.

"Mort?" she said quietly in a strained voice, her eyes only half-open, but still noticing that his face was nearly as pale as hers, and he looked very much out of breath. "Are you alright?"

Nearly hysterical with glee and relief, Mort rushed over and knelt down by the bed, taking her hand. "Funny how _you're_ the one asking about me when I'm not the one who just got shot," he laughed weakly, inclining his head and planting a kiss on the back of her hand. However, his expression shifted when he realized that this feeling would be short-lived. "The cops are gonna be after me soon, just so you know -- they like you around here, and I _did_ pull the trigger --"

"They won't be bothering you anymore," Carmen said with a small smile. "I talked to the sheriff -- you're ok."

"What?" Mort said in disbelief. What could she have possibly said that could get him off the hook for this one? If he'd been any of those people out there, he'd have suspected himself in an instant.

"Perks of dating a writer," she laughed weakly, punctuated with a small cough. "You find you get a pretty big boost in creativity -- you should've heard it, it was the best story ever. You probably couldn't even have come up with it yourself." She paused, noting with pride the look of surprise and curiosity on Mort's face before she continued. "I told the sheriff you were trying to pull a gun on yourself and I tried to get it away."

Mort paused and laughed, shaking his head. "You little cheat," he laughed, laying his head down on the pillow next to her. "That is the most outlandish thing I've ever heard -- we should collaborate on a book one day." He paused, noting the sad look on her face. "Not a good idea?"

"Carmen _Shooter_." she said simply, tears welling up in her eyes as finally, she was overwhelmed by everything that had happened in these past weeks, culminating in her lying in a hospital bed. "All this time I wanted to know -- and now I hate myself for it."

"Hey, you saved my life," Mort said, hesitantly reaching out and touching her cheek. "That in itself is sort of crazy, but I'm thankful, and I wanna do something for you."

Carmen weakly reached up and wiped her eyes, then glanced up at Mort questioningly.

"How about I rid you of that ugly name, hm?" he asked with an awkward, lopsided grin. "Rainey's not much better, but it rolls off the tongue easier. What do you say?"

Carmen paused to consider it, and was about to speak when suddenly, Mort began bobbing his head jokingly, repeating, "_Carmen Rainey, Carmen Rainey!_" in a comical, sing-song voice. She laughed quietly, reaching out a hand to swat playfully at what she could reach of Mort's arm.

"How about we talk about it when I'm not doped up on painkillers?" she asked with a weak laugh, holding the crook of his arm with as much firmness as her weak, tired body could muster. Still, all the rest of that day, and well into the evening – being that they still regarded Mort as the resident psychopath, no one bothered to remind him when it was past visiting hours – all Mort could think of was the fact that after all he'd put Carmen through…

…she hadn't said no.

* * *

_A/N -_It's been ages, I know, you guys! I've just been so busy lately! An update on me -- I'm now a college student, and ENGAGED! Anyway, now that my schedule is letting up because of school and classes being more spread out, I'll try to get to ALL of my stories! Hopefully I still have some reviewers out there!

Anyway, I love this chappie, because it's a nice split from the depressing stuff that preceded it. Stay tuned, the drama isn't over yet, though!


	23. Chapter 23

**Hello Readers!**

If any of my old readers are still around, you'll know that I have left this story untouched for a long time. I started writing it when I was about fifteen or sixteen. I'm twenty-one now, and my writing style has changed significantly. I look back at this story, and I realize that there's so much more than I can do style wise, and that I would have done a lot of things differently if I had written the story now.

So, this is what I have been thinking:

I don't want to take this story down because I have had a lot of loyal readers, and I don't plan on doing so - but I do want to rewrite it if it is something any readers would find worthwhile. It would have the same storyline, but with some finetuning - I'm seeing the faults not of being a sixteen year old trying to write things in an adult perspective.

That being said, there are only about two or three chapters left in this story, but I do want to rewrite it. So what I plan on doing is update those chapters, but also think I would like to rewrite the old ones first. So, if any old readers are still interested in this story, it WILL be updated soon, but I do want a chance to make it even better - so, if you'd like to stick around and reread it as I revise it, that would be great!

Give me your feedback as to what you all think is the best way to go with this - I will be working on rewriting chapters in between working on the story that is biggest in my mind right now, which happens to be my Harry Potter story titled "Grim Becomings: Intimations of Immortality".

**Please let me know what you think I should do - replace the text of these chapters? Post the rewritten chapters as a new story entirely? I entrust myself to your wisdom, so please shoot me some feedback!**


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